


What the Hell

by Ubermunchkin



Series: Bellon Series: [2]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic, World of Warcraft
Genre: Adult Language, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-17 06:10:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 81,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16510829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ubermunchkin/pseuds/Ubermunchkin
Summary: Imperial agent Major Bellon'dfrey'theris, aka Billy Dekidt, aka Cipher 9, is back. After several years of easy assignments, he gets sent to a recently discovered planet in Wild Space with a lot of Force users. His mission? To ascertain whether or not the residents of this planet would make good allies for the Empire in its war against the Republic.





	1. CHAPTER 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Trust No One." I noticed, while playing WOW and SWTOR, that the same inflection, tonality, and accent was used by the Imperial Agent trainer and various Forsaken merchants and the phrase is identical. It is from that one line that this story was inspired. Read and enjoy.

Bellon’dfrey’theris, core name ‘Dfrey, aka Bellon, groaned and rolled away from the warm body lying next to him. He muted the buzz on his personal holo communicator and grumbled as he forced himself into an upright position. He looked at the caller, Keeper. He groaned again putting his face in his palm.

When the woman next to him stirred, he picked up the communicator and headed into the living area of his apartment. He didn’t turn on any lights; he could see well in the dark. He sat on the couch and activated the communicator.

The image of Keeper appeared. “Cipher Nine… You could have at least put a pillow in your lap.” She scowled at him.

“Normal people are asleep at this time of night,” he responded grumpily dragging a pillow into his naked lap. “Sir,” he tacked on hastily.

“We are not normal people; you should know that after 13 years. I have an assignment for you.” The image stepped out of frame but her voice carried over. “The Winterspring File, yes, that one.” She appeared again holding a data pad.

“What is the assignment that it couldn’t wait until I came in?”

“Under cover,…” she scowled again at his most audible groan. “Under cover assessing a newly discovered world as a possible ally against the Republic. I need you to come in A-S-A-P to be present when the on-planet crew calls in.”

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir. Cipher Nine ou…”

“And do put on some clothes. Keeper out.” The image disappeared.

Bellon was awake now so there wouldn’t have been any sense in trying to go back to sleep anyway. He eased back into the bedroom trying to minimize noise that would wake up Loa. He’d leave her a note explaining his absence and that he expected to be home that evening.

He had met her about a year ago; it was rare to meet another Chiss in Dromund Kaas, much less female, much less agreeable, much less from the same social class, much less close to his age. She was a liaison for the Chiss Expeditionary Force to the Imperial Army and worked at the Chiss Ascendency Embassy.

Since he had returned to Dromund Kaas from his extended undercover work as a republic privateer, Keeper had him doing small jobs: courier, escort, tracking, schmoozing with the Chiss Ascendency diplomatic corps. He hadn’t been out of Imperial space and away more than a couple of weeks at the most for several years. It had been a nice change, an almost normal lifestyle. Loa made it seem even more normal. He had been toying with the idea of talking to her about unifying their families, Chiss for marriage.

He turned on the bathroom light, took a quick shower, and shaved. He passed back through the dark bedroom to his closet and pulled out a clean uniform then dressed in his living room. Lastly, he jotted a note for Loa telling her he’d be home for dinner. It was handwritten and placed where she would see it.

He stepped out of his climate-controlled apartment into the simmering hot, humid, Dromund Kaas night. His speeder pad overlooked the chasm separating the Citadel, the business district, and upscale residential district where he lived. In the silence of the night, he could hear the chirpetts in the brush at the bottom of the canyon. He took a deep breath resigning himself to the end of some normalcy, climbed into his speeder, and headed for the Citadel.

He landed in front of Imperial Intelligence leaving his speeder with a valet droid. As he entered Intelligence, the Regular Army guard snapped to attention and saluted; Bellon’s return salute was haphazardly casual. The place was pristine clean, deserted, dimly lit with readouts at empty stations blinking lazily and unattended; his footsteps echoed. It was a rather forlorn ambiance. He took the hall around to the left that led back into operations. The second guard, this one Imperial Intelligence, checked his credentials before saluting and allowing him to enter. Operations was alive; everyone was at their positions, and mouse droids were scooting about carrying messages.

Bellon nearly stepped on one; he skipped over it cursing lightly. Keeper’s door was open, so he entered without knocking.

“Cipher Nine reporting as requested.” He saluted the woman who was his boss.

She returned his salute, stood, and indicate he follow. They went back out to the operations floor and a full-sized holo terminal.

“Any hints what’s this about?”

“About two weeks ago, an Imperial Reclamation Service ship force landed on a remote planet in wild space beyond the outer rim. They reestablished contact with their commander about a week ago. Ah, here he is. Moff Gerard.” She greeted an older man being escorted in by one of the Imperial Intelligence guards. “This is Cipher Nine, the agent who will be spearheading this operation. And Darth Vowrawn.” She bowed her head to the Sith behind the Moff.

“A Chiss?” the human Moff asked with enough distaste to put Bellon off immediately. “Is this the best you have, Keeper?”

“Yes,” Keeper responded with grit in her tone.

“Moff Gerard, I would prefer to hear no words coming from your mouth,” the Sith lord warned. The animosity between the two was tangible.”

“Yes, as I was saying, Cipher Nine; the crew of the research vessel reestablished contact about a week ago with news of Force users inhabiting the planet. Moff Garard convinced the Dark Council that this planet should be investigated and brought into our fold before the Republic finds them. Darth Vowrawn is the Dark Council representative for the project and requested you, by name.” She looked at Bellon pointedly to ensure he knew how important this assignment was to his career.

“It is good to see you well and rested Cipher Nine,” the Sith greeted. “We’ve arranged for Capt. Lakris to contact us again tonight with more extensive information about the planet’s residents.”

“Will the crew be remaining planet side?” Bellon asked.

“No,” Darth Vowrawn answered. “They have repaired their ship; they will remain in place only long enough to guide you to a safe landing zone. They will then return. They are little more than archeologists and historians; not at all fit or trained for detailed reconnaissance.”

“What exactly will be my task?” Bellon asked.

“You…”

“Keeper, Capt. Lakris is on,” one of the minders announced.

Keeper activated the life-sized terminal. A bedraggled Imperial Reclamation officer with the rank of captain appeared.

“Moff Gerard,” he acknowledged the one familiar face. “Capt. Lakris of the research vessel _Silthar’s Promise_ reporting as ordered, sir.”

“Introduce us, Moff Gerard,” Darth Vowrawn suggested with a warning tone.

“Capt. Lakris, this is Keeper head of Imperial Intelligence and Darth Vowrawn of the Dark Council.” Moff Gerard didn’t mention the alien operative.

“Moff,” Vowrawn growled.

“And the Chiss is a cipher agent,” Moff Gerard reluctantly acknowledged Bellon.

“You are Darth Lakris’ son, yes?” the Sith asked.

The officer nodded, “Yes, my lord.”

“You have a good reputation for observation, captain,” Darth Vowrawn put the man at ease. “What have you got for us?”

“Well…” he turned to a voice off holo. “Then activate the cloaking device; we don’t want some barbaric idiot stumbling into the ship.” He turned back to the holo. “To begin with, we had a run in with some local creatures; little more than animals but organized and intelligent enough to coordinate their actions.” He turned way. “Bring up the holo of the attackers.”

His image was replaced by a 3D image of a large, hulking, green humanoid dressed in primitive armor and carrying an oversized sword; tusks protruded from its heavy mouth. “They are still snooping about outside,” Lakris said from off-camera. “They speak a guttural language that Childress is trying to translate; we should have that done by the time you arrive, agent.”

He continued to describe the creature they were looking at. That creature was replaced by several non-humanoid animals, which Lakris described as well.

His image replaced the pictures. “There are apparently two factions at war on this planet and that makes life difficult for us; their reaction is shoot first and ask questions later.”

“What about the Force users?” Darth Vowrawn asked.

Lakris suddenly brightened. “That is the fascinating part. It seems almost every living creature on this planet is Force sensitive to some degree. The armed creatures that attacked were wielding only swords and pikes but used the Force to augment their attacks. Halbreth, tell them what you saw.”

He was replaced by a slender, young woman. She had a bandage on her cheek. “Manlie and I were foraging when we saw two Force users fighting in the distance. Both were humanoid: one was covered in fur, over two meters tall with a long muzzle; the other was very small and green with large ears. The power they were wielding against one another was devastating: throwing fire and ice, lightening and boulders. Each was able to shield against the attack of the other. We watched through our field glasses. The battle lasted about ten standard minutes before the fur-bearing creature retreated and teleported somehow. Should I tell them about the battle site we found?”

“Please do, Lt. Halbreth,” Darth Vowrawn encouraged.

“It was just a little battle, looked to be no more than two companies. Anyway, there was scoring in the earth to indicate the Force was used. This is what one side looked like.” The picture of a dead creature with horns, pale blue skin, and animalistic, hooved, hind legs and tail appeared. “As you can see there is no physical evidence of attack; an autopsy indicated the Force had shattered its internal organs.” The body of another green hulking creature appeared. “This one was killed by multiple wounds – sword, arrows, and daggers.”

“Do you know which company won that engagement?” Darth Vowrawn asked.

“We believe the Growlers,” Halbreth explained. “At least there were more of their tracks leading away from the site than the other.”

“We are calling the big green creatures Growlers,” Lakris explained stepping back into view. “One of the bodies of the hooved-horned beings had a written communiqué. Childress translated enough to figure out they represent ‘The Alliance’ under the command of a King Wrynn. One of the Growlers also had a written note, which Childress translated. That indicated they were part of what they call ‘The Horde’ under the command of someone called Hellscream.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy makes planet fall and meets his first native.

Shalaya’loa’nuruodu, core name Yaloan, was home when Bellon walked in and dropped onto the couch dejected and tired.

“What’s wrong?” she asked sitting beside him.

“I have to leave; I’m going undercover and don’t know how long this will take.” He looked into her glowing red eyes and stroked her rich blue cheek. “Oh, Loa, I’m sorry that we have to cancel the trip home.”

She smiled and leaned into him putting her head on his shoulder. “Postpone, not cancel. Think positive; you’ll be back, Dfrey.”

He could feel her heart fluttering belying her words. He rubbed his cheek against her soft black hair and hugged her hard. He wondered what he had done to deserve her favor.

********

The next couple of weeks were spent reviewing the reams of information Capt. Lakris sent back. At home, he couldn’t get enough of Loa nor she of him; it seemed they were making up for the coming lost time together.

The night before his departure, she collapsed onto his chest after making love and cried inconsolably. Bellon felt his own grief and fear. Would they ever see each other again? It was very probable in his line of work that they would not.

He had mentioned to Keeper that he would like to become a Minder or Watcher when he returned; he felt he was getting too old for gadding about the galaxy playing roles that were unnatural.

She had told him, “We will see.”

********

The next morning Loa stared across the breakfast table at him in an effort to etch his face into her memory; he likewise.

“I love you,” he told her and leaned over to kiss her. “No matter what happens, don’t ever forget that.”

She pressed her lips together and nodded. “I love you too,” she mouthed unable to make any noise without crying. Her eyes glistened with tears.

Bellon abruptly stood, grabbed his deployment bag, and headed out to the speeder pad. He had to leave now.

He was sullen to say the least when he reached Imperial Intelligence. He listened attentively, however, as Watcher Two issued him the field equipment he would need.

“We have synthesized some clothing reflective of the attire noted in the recordings the Reclamation Service crew has sent us. The clothing is apparently that of a travelling merchant, according to Lt. Childress.” Watcher Two handed him the bundle. “Be sure to put it on BEFORE you disembark planet side.”

“What’s that?” Bellon pointed at a suspiciously painful looking patch with spikes.

“When you reach your destination, and are ready to make contact,” Watcher Two pointed at Bellon’s holocommunicator, “use the camera to record the creature you will emulate. Input that data into the Transmutator.” He took a full 360° scan of Bellon and explained how the Transmutator could merge several recordings together to create the composite that Bellon would use as his alias. “This then attaches to your upper chest,” Watcher Two pointed just above Bellon’s right pectoral. “It will make you become the composite. However, you must pick a being that is similar in height and physiology as your own; in other words, not one of the Growlers or Peewees or fur-bearers. Don’t worry, once it’s removed, you revert to yourself.”

“You will study both factions, The Horde and The Alliance,” Keeper announced. “You will send back as much information as possible and any recommendations as to with which faction we should align. Once we have enough, Darth Vowrawn will arrive to negotiate the treaty.”

Bellon nodded and started to leave operations.

Keeper walked with him. At the door, she put her hand on his shoulder and looked at him sympathetically. “This shouldn’t be like the last time. No more than a year if that long; it depends on how quickly you get the information we need.” She studied him. “I’ll keep an eye on Yaloan for you.”

Bellon hid a wince at her tone. “Thank you,” Bellon acknowledged before formally saluting and taking his leave.

He left instructions with the valet droid that his speeder was to be returned to his apartment, then took a taxi to the space port.

“Prepare for takeoff, Twovee,” he announced as he passed his ship’s droid. He dropped his deployment bag on the bed in his ship quarters and went to the bridge. The ship rumbled to life.

2VR8 was sitting in the co-pilot seat, “Ship is ready for takeoff, master. You have clearance from flight control.”

Bellon put on his headsets and addressed flight control. “This is X70-Phantom ready for departure from Dock 7.”

Tractor beams lifted the ship and guided it out of the dock and clear of the space port. “Engaging thrusters.” Bellon activated the in-atmosphere engines. “Release tractor beams.” He felt the release of the ship.

“Have a nice flight, X70-Phantom,” the ground crew announced as acknowledgment that he was in free flight.

Bellon accelerated and headed out of the atmosphere. “Twovee, pull up the map to the planet,” Bellon instructed once they were in orbit. The map of the galaxy activated then homed in on a planet in wild space beyond Hoth. Bellon plugged the course into the navi-computer and headed out. He then sent an encoded message to the Chiss Ascendency Expeditionary Forces command.

Trust no one, not even Keeper.

********

It took two standard weeks to reach the star system. The first thing Bellon noted was that one of the planets, the fourth, had exploded. The largest chunk, about two thirds of the globe and accompanied by the shattered fragments, still maintained orbit around the sun; it also still managed to have some atmosphere.

He approached the third planet and slipped into orbit. He studied the world.

The planet was the standard size necessary to have a gravity and atmosphere to support life. It was a blue, floating marble with four small continental landmasses all in the same hemisphere. The landmasses looked green and lush with temperate weather; better than many planets he had been to. At this altitude, he couldn’t make out any substantial cities; but then the information indicated they weren’t industrial, at least not on a large scale.

He put on the homespun and rustic clothing Watcher Two had provided him: cloth tunic and breaches and cape and hat and leather boots and shoulder pouch.

He then sent out the ping to inform the Reclamation Service vessel that he was in orbit and awaiting guidance to a secluded landing zone. The trace didn’t come back until the hemisphere was in night; he broke orbit and followed it in. At night, all anyone would see would be what seemed to be a meteor.

He landed in the northern area of the eastern most continent, south of a massive stone wall and not far from mountains. The area was the rocky foothills to the small mountain range in the east. As he swung around to land with his thrusters away from _Silthar’s Promise_ , his exterior lights swept across several crewmembers waiting outside their ship.

He gave 2VR8 instructions to take off immediately and hold a geo-synchronous orbit until he sent word to be picked up. He stepped out onto the world and hurriedly cleared his ship before 2VR8 launched.

“Cipher Nine, good to meet you in person,” Capt. Lakris greeted with none of the alien prejudices of his commander. He extended his hand in greeting.

Bellon accepted the firm grip. “Likewise, captain. I’m sure you’re anxious to get home so let’s make this brief.”

“We had to move, which proved propitious,” Lakris explained. “Scouts had found us and were getting ready to attack. We had been in the western continent. This site is closer to a powerful Horde leader, Sylvanas, and The Alliance leader, King Wrynn. To the north and west about 15 kilometers is a small outpost of Horde. To the south about 20 kilometers is an outpost of Alliance. We haven’t dared venture a visual recon but have picked up activity on our scanners. North of here about 800 kilometers is Sylvanas’ capital city. From what we can ascertain, the population is only about 20,000. South of here, about 1600 kilometers is the capital city for the Alliance, where their king is located; similar population.”

“Have you translated their language?” Bellon asked.

Lakris nodded and signaled to an over-weight woman who looked to be in her mid 40s. “Ensign Childress.”

Childress stepped forward and held out a small ear piece. “I finally managed to translate the guttural language of the Growlers. But you might not need it. It turns out they speak a dialect of the common tongue. We found out quite by accident just before we moved to this location.”

She explained how a foraging party had nearly stumbled into the camp of some Peewees and Growlers. The team recorded the conversation, which was in common. She handed Bellon a transcript.

Lakris then bid Bellon farewell and hurried his team onto their ship. They wanted to break orbit before daylight.

Bellon walked well away from the scout ship and sat down to wait for dawn. He listened to the quiet of the night after watching the light from the scout ship’s engines leave the atmosphere. He heard off in the dark an insectoid-type chittering noise and in the distance the roar of some large beast. Closer were the peeps of something he figured were akin to chirpetts. He took a deep breath of the clean air, not too hot or too cold and low humidity. He could see the stars of the galaxy filling the sky. There were worse places to be deposited alone in the middle of the night.

He pulled out a light and began studying the transcript. Sylvanas wanted reports on any Alliance movements. The Peewees, which called themselves Goblins, were to infiltrate as close as possible to any and all Alliance outposts to gain intelligence. Apparently, they would pose as ‘Steamwheedle Cartel’ members. Bellon decided that the Goblins were broken into sub-factions as well, with the Steamwheedle Cartel being friendly to the Alliance. The Growlers, who called themselves Orcs, were headed for someplace called Splintertree to reinforce the army there.

When he heard waking birds herald the arrival of dawn, he tucked the transcript away and shut off the small light he was using. Shortly after, the sun sent the first hints of day above the mountain ridge to the east and the land around him took form.

The wall to the north was entirely made of dry-laid stone and stood about 15 meters tall stretching from the eastern mountains to mountains about 80 kilometers west. He saw smoke rising in the distance, the direction Lakris had indicated for the Horde outpost. He ensured his blaster was easily accessible yet concealed and set out in that direction. Hopefully, he would be able to get a good recording of one of the denizens to load into the Transmutator.

He heard their voices before he saw them. A group was approaching. Bellon ducked into a stand of rocks and squatted down listening.

“I know what I saw, Marcus,” it was a somewhat raspy female voice; it sounded as if it were coming from an old woman. “Lights and noises coming from the area of the Circle of Fire.”

“You’ve been drinking too much Rumsey’s Dark Rum again, Arbeth,” it was a man’s voice and sounded like sandpaper being dragged across a rock.

Bellon took a quick look and identified a group of five humanoids not too different in size and physiology from him. He hastily set up the recorder on the tallest rock and turned it on. He ducked back out of sight and listened to their discussion.

“I don’t drink in the field and you know it, Marcus. I serve the Dark Lady with all my heart.”

The male snorted some sort of laugh. “You don’t have a heart anymore, Arbeth.” Something was very wrong with his vocal chords. Apparently, the female was laughing at the private joke as well.

“I bet you saw nothing more than a gnome reconnaissance balloon,” Marcus suggested as they passed not too far from Bellon’s hiding place.

“No-o,” the word was drawn out as if painful to say. “This moved much too fast to be a balloon or even a goblin rocket. When it left, it went straight up out of sight; and the noise sounded like a roaring dragon. And I think there were two. I saw a roaring light come in and almost immediately leave then the second roaring light left.”

By now the small group was past the rock and Bellon could see them himself. There were five shuffling along slightly hunched over. The female wore leather armor, carried a bow and quiver of arrows, and had a huge, black spider walking at her side. The male wore robes not unlike what a Sith inquisitor might wear and walked with a long staff. The three others wore armor made up of what seemed to be iron and some unidentifiable metal; two carried shields and swords and one carried a long staff with what looked like an axe on the end. The breeze carried with it the smell of decaying flesh even after they were out of sight.

Bellon retrieved the recorder off the top of the rock and reviewed what it had picked up. He focused in on the male, Marcus. His hair was long and unkempt. His face gaunt with sunken eyes and cheeks. His hands were almost skeletal. Bellon used the program to strip away the clothes to see the form underneath. The man had no fat, his ribs and spine stuck out as if he were starving to death. His arms and legs had almost no muscle and, to Bellon’s horror, in some places no skin. Looking deeper showed that his skeletal development was identical and he was approximately the same size as Bellon.

Bellon did a similar study of the others to find Marcus was actually the least decayed one of the bunch. He merged the recording of Marcus with a pre-made recording of himself. He studied the result.

The face was his but the complexion and state of decay was Marcus. He sighed and set the image into the Transmutator. He was about to attach it when he heard the group returning. He shifted so as not to be seen and listened to their discussion hoping to learn more.

They had found the landing site with two areas of charred earth. Something had blown debris around so that Arbeth had been unable to find any tracks. She would travel to “Undercity” and inform Dark Lady Sylvanas herself.

Bellon had to move fast. Arbeth was his ticket to learning as much as possible about Sylvanas and the Horde and reaching the capital. He waited until they were out of sight and inserted the Transmutator into his chest.

He gasped and crumpled at the pain that shot through his body. He could feel muscles and bones realigning themselves. He fought desperately to keep from crying out as his skin seemed to burn and tear. The agony seemed to last for hours before he lay gasping and exhausted.

When the spots before his eyes abated, he stood and moved around a bit to get used to the new body. He slipped his blaster and the recorder into the deep shoulder pouch and stepped out from the rocks.

“My name is Billy,” Bellon said taking on his old persona. His voice too cracked and rasped against desicated vocal chords. He set off at a jog following the trail of the five. He decided to tell them he was a merchant that had been way-laid and that he wanted to get back to Undercity. He purposely ran through brambles to tear the clothes he wore.

Soon a small camp with several cook fires came into sight. It sat on a small rise, next to a road that led through the shattered gates of the great wall rising at its back.

There were several structures on wheels and a couple of tents, all were either a sickly green color or purple. The two most startling items was the giant, obese creature standing about five meters tall looking like it had been sewn together, and a very large glass globe filled with swirling, putrid-looking green liquid.

“Who are you,” a voice challenged. It was Arbeth.

“My name’s Billy Dekidt. My caravan was attacked in the night and everything was stolen. I saw your camp smoke and made my way here.”

“Did you see any roaring lights?” the sarcastic tone of Marcus asked.

Bellon shook his head, “No I was struck unconscious in the attack and only recently awoke. I should very much like to get back to Undercity to tell my business partner and restock.”

“If the Orcs at Hammerfall don’t get their supplies, they’ll be quite put out,” Arbeth answered as if she didn’t care about her allies.

“Don’t shed a tear for them, dear friend.” Marcus chuckled. “Such luck for you, Billy; Arbeth will be leaving for Undercity quite soon. I’m sure she would appreciate the company on the road.”

“Shut up,” Arbeth snapped. “I don’t need you to speak for me. You are welcomed along but know that I travel quickly and will not wait up for you.”

“I can keep up,” Bellon assured her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellon gets to know his travelling companion, gets in a fight with some natives, learns a little about the world he's on, and sends his first report back to Keeper.

Arbeth immediately started jogging north toward the damaged gate in the huge wall, the giant black spider at her side. She went about 20 feet when she noticed Billy wasn’t following.

“So? Are you coming or not?”

“Now? But…” Bellon shrugged and joined her.

“Are you a mage or something?” Arbeth asked as they passed under the precariously teetering stones.

“Why do you ask?” Bellon asked.

“You don’t have any weapons. What’s your weapon?”

“Oh, my weapons were stolen in the caravan attack. I, uh, prefer a rifle but I’m adept at several weapons.” He could feel his blaster bumping against his leg but that was for drastic measures; he had orders not to expose the residents to Imperial technology.

Arbeth shrugged haphazardly. “We’ll probably find something for you to use along the way. Worgen and Owlkin lurk along this road to waylay unsuspecting travelers like us.”

“So, what’s with the spider?” He asked putting her between him and the arachnid.

“Oh, Dr. Nope? He’s my pet.” She reached over and patted the critter’s back. “He’s a trained hunting spider. He’s really good at detecting hidden attackers.”

“Dr. Nope, good name. Well that’s reassuring. I’ve lived a rather sheltered life as a merchant; you know with guards protecting me all the time and someone else knowing exactly where I’m going. I’ve never traversed this territory without a group of guards. Their presence kept brigands at bay for the most part.”

“So what happened last night that you were so overwhelmingly overwhelmed?”

“Oh, well, they surprised us in the dead of night.”

“I bet it was those roaring lights I saw. I’m surprised you didn’t see or hear them.” She shifted her bow into a more active position with a notched arrow. “Owlkin,” she indicated some large bird-like bi-peds well off to the right of the road. “Never know if they’ll attack or let us pass.”

Bellon kept his eye on them. “As I said earlier, I was knocked unconscious and didn’t wake until just before sun up. So where are we headed right now?”

“Tarren Mill.” Arbeth pointed vaguely northeast. “Should reach it by nightfall. If we’re lucky, we’ll have made a few kills and collected you some weapons and armor and the two of us some coin. We can stop for a break at Eastpoint Tower just up the road.”

They travelled in silence for a while, conserving their breath. The pace Arbeth set was an easy yet ground-covering jog. Bellon had no trouble keeping pace. After about an hour, he could see the top of a crenellated tower in the distance.

Before he could ask if that was Eastpoint, Dr. Nope chittered angrily and lunged off the left side of the road. Arbeth had her bow up and ready when an upright canid-type creature appeared from behind brush. She brought it down with two solid shots but there were more of the creatures.

One lunged at Bellon. He side-stepped, just before it could grab him, and caught its left forepaw. He spun it around and, with expert precision, snapped its neck. As it fell, he disarmed it of the knife it had been holding. He spun in time to stick the knife into the chest of another one of the creatures. The knife went in just under the sternum at an upward angle piercing the animal’s heart.

He heard Arbeth still shooting and caught a glimpse of Dr. Nope rearing up over one of their attackers.

He pulled the knife out and slashed the throat of a third that had its rifle up ready to shoot him at point-blank range. It fell gurgling and drowning in its own blood.

“Right, a merchant.” Arbeth stared at him with awe when it was all over. “For a merchant, you fight damn good. Who were you waylaid by, the entire Wildhammer Clan?” She shook her head and looked at the seven dead Worgen. “Okay, Merchant of Death, there’s some leather armor for you. Put it on.”

“It’s way too big for me. Besides, what if he has fleas?”

“You’re dead, Forsaken, remember?” Arbeth shook her head. “If he does have fleas, we’ll have a priest or druid heal you at Tarren Mill. Put it on.” She bent and started taking the leather armor off the dead Worgen.

Bellon noticed that once the chest piece was in her hand away from its previous owner, it seemed to shrink. She tossed it, and he caught it. Suddenly it looked to be the perfect size for him. She continued to strip the Worgen of his gear to include two very wicked looking daggers.

Bellon began putting the leather armor on over the robes he wore starting with the greaves. Arbeth helped him with the breastplate then fastened a belt with dagger sheaths over the armor.

“You said you can shoot a rifle. Here.” She handed him a blunderbuss.

Bellon hefted it and sighted along it. She was attaching powder and bullet boxes to his belt.

“Check their purses. See if they have any coin.” She turned to the four she and Dr. Nope killed.

When he finished rifling the dead, he had the armor, weapons, some semi-fresh bread, a back-pack of cooking gear, one gold piece, and 27 silver pieces. Arbeth announced that was a nice haul and again set off up the road at a jog.

Bellon adjusted his load to be comfortable as they moved out. They went only a couple 100 feet when they met a group of Forsaken all in armor running south along the road.

The leader hailed Arbeth. “Oi, hunter, did you have a run-in with some Worgen scouts?”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” she replied somewhat cockily as she continued on up the road.

Bellon shrugged smiling and followed her.

They stopped at the lone watchtower manned by Forsaken and another humanoid race. The others weren’t rotting corpses; they were tall, slender, fair skinned, large pointed ears, and long swooping eyebrows.

Bellon found a place to sit where he could surreptitiously record these Blood Elves as Arbeth called them. He listened to their lyrical language as they spoke to one another. When they spoke to the Forsaken, it was in the dialect of the common language the Forsaken seemed to speak as natives.

After he had enjoyed some of the bread he had taken off the bodies and took a large swig of fresh, spring water, he saw the patrol of Forsaken, which he and Arbeth had met, return. He watched as they reported to their commander and the apparent commander of the Blood Elves.

Arbeth sat beside him and Dr. Nope settled on his stomach in front of them both. “Heh, Billy, when they look at us, smile and wave all innocent like.”

There was a tinge of humor in her raspy voice. He nearly laughed when the group turned to look at the pair of travelers. He grinned and waved.

“Time to move on,” Arbeth announced standing.

They continued north across a narrow river that was filled with large, hard-shelled amphibians Arbeth called Snapjaws. About two miles north of the river, the road split with a signpost that pointed east to Tarren Mill and west to Silver Pine Forest. They headed east.

Bellon watched a herd of wild herbivores grazing between the road and the river. When he pointed them out, Arbeth regarded them a moment.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of walking. I have an idea.” She walked toward the herd. Dr. Nope lay down on the road side next to Bellon.

To his surprise, the beasts didn’t bolt. In fact two started walking toward Arbeth. They came right up to her, and she began talking and stroking their well-muscled necks. She pulled rope out of her back pack. She cut two lengths and fashioned two halters and reins; these she slipped onto the two beasts then led them back.

“Hop on, Billy. From here on we ride.” She was smiling quite pleased with herself as she handed him the reins to the brown and white spotted one.

Bellon watched her vault onto the back of the black one she kept. He emulated her move and found himself happily astride. “Never ridden one of these.”

“Oh, just use the reins like so,” she showed him how to turn the creature’s neck. “To stop, pull back on both at the same time and to start, just give him a nudge.” She started her beast walking.

Bellon’s nudge was apparently too abrupt, and his mount snorted in surprise and leapt forward. Bellon found himself lying in the dirt.

Arbeth brought the beast back. “That was a little to energetic. Just give his flanks the gentlest of pressure. Live horses are much more sensitive than undead ones.” She handed him back the reins.

Bellon mounted again and ever so carefully squeezed his heels against the horse’s sides. It started walking, happy to follow its buddy, which Arbeth rode.

It took Bellon a while to get the feel of riding a live creature but once he did, he settled in to enjoy the scenery passing by at a pace that for the horse was an easy jog; for him it would have been a run.

“We’ll get to Tarren Mill well before dark if we pick up the pace a bit. Hang on to its mane and use your knees to hold on.” Arbeth leaned slightly forward and her black broke into an easy run.

Spot, as Bellon decided to call him, also broke into a run. It was surprisingly smooth. Dr. Nope scurried along happily after the pair. Again, it took Bellon some time before he felt at ease at this new pace.

“So how did you do that, Arbeth? Get them to come to you like that?” He asked.

“It’s a Ranger trick,” she answered noncommittally.

Force persuasion, he thought to himself. Arbeth was Force sensitive. That would explain her ability to draw, aim, and fire quickly enough to have killed three Worgen.

“Have you always been a Ranger?” he asked. He’d like to figure out what other Force techniques she knew.

“Yep, started training when I was 10; joined the Scarlet Crusade when I was 16. Died when I was 21.”

That told him a lot but he had to be careful not to tip his hand to being something he wasn’t, dead like her. At the same time, he felt some sadness for her.

“How long have you been Forsaken?” he asked.

“Five years or so. Sort of lost count. One moment I was fighting Forsaken at Heart Mountain Hold and the next I was in this crypt in Silver Pine Forest being told to get up and get to work. It was very unnerving. How about you?”

“Oh, uh, I was travelling to a village, yeah, to sell my goods. Next thing I knew, bam, not too unlike you.” He hoped that was sufficient. “That was about… six months ago.”

“Man you are new at this, aren’t you? Where were you from?”

“Oh, all over. Never settled in any one place. My whole life’s been like that.”

“So you were a Merchant of Death before too?”

“What do you mean by Merchant of Death?” he asked with a slight challenge.

“You fight like an assassin not some fat-assed merchant, Billy. Though merchant is a great cover to get into places for spying or killing or whatever you have to do.” She glanced back over her shoulder at him. “I won’t tell anyone the truth about you.” She faced forward again.  “Ah-ha, Tarren Mill.” She pointed at some smoke rising in the distance.

As the village came into sight, they slowed the horses to a cooling walk. Billy pulled out his recorder and filmed their approach. As they neared the gate guard, he slipped it back into the haversack at his side. He took in every detail as they passed through the gate; the guards acknowledged them with grunts. They walked up to a stable with a paddock filled with the oddest collection of creatures: long-legged birds of sundry bright colors, huge slathering wolves, skeletal horses that clacked when they moved, lumbering horned beasts the size of banthas, and a lion-goat mix with wings.

Beside the stable was a very large crosstree with several bats hanging at rest. As they paid the stable master a silver piece each to take care of their mounts, a bat came in for a landing and deposited a rider, another blood elf.

Arbeth led Bellon through the streets. There was a unexpected roar of an engine and irritated honking. The two leapt clear of a goblin on a large, exhaust-spewing motortrike. Bellon shook his head at the paradox of technology he was seeing. He would have to send his first report back to Keeper that night.

Arbeth turned into a rickety structure with a sign on the front that indicated it was the Dead Rat Inn. That wasn’t encouraging.

“Dark Lady welcome you,” the hostess greeted.

“Two beds for one night,” Arbeth told her.

“Two bits,” the hostess held out her hand.

They each dropped a silver piece in her hand and got back 50 copper pieces each. “Upstairs and to your left, third door on the right. The commode is communal so don’t boggart the thing.”

Bellon figured out quickly what she had meant when they passed a small closet with a toilet seat and curtain covering the entry.

Their room was small with two small beds. It was neat and tidy except for the proliferation of small, normal-sized spiders. Dr. Nope seemed happy to spend time with his miniscule cousins while Arbeth and Bellon went in search of the tavern and libations.

Dead or not, Arbeth still ate and seemed to gain sustenance from it. She admitted through the meal that she missed not being able to taste what she ate or drank. Bellon was careful to act as though he couldn’t taste it either. It was surprisingly tasty fare and he wondered at a dead creature being able to serve up such a palatable cuisine; then he found out the cook was very much alive, an Orc.

The tavern clientele reflected the odd assortment of creatures in the stable. Goblins, Orcs, Blood Elves, Forsaken, Tauren, Trolls, and a Pandaren. The bear-like Pandaren was drinking copious amounts of ale and singing and dancing vigorously.

Arbeth began drinking quite heavily and was soon flirting shamelessly with the happy Pandaren. Bellon had moderated his intake and took an opportunity to slip out.

He walked about the village, now quiet as the residents settled in after a busy day. There was an abandoned church; Bellon climbed the bell tower and sat where he could see over the protective walls of the village.

He pulled out his recorder and reviewed everything he had managed to get: Arbeth and Marcus, the Blood Elves at East Point Tower, Arbeth Force persuading the horses, the country side, and their approach to Tarren Mill. He took a video of himself as a Forsaken then arranged the information and added his commentary for his report.

Report One: Day One, Species. Approach and planet fall were without incident. Met with the Capt. Lakris of _Silthar’s Promise_ and received final briefing. The Reclamation Service crew launched and should be on their way to Dromund Kaas. I cannot say the arrival and departures of the ships went unnoticed. At daybreak I encountered the group shown in Image 1; though they did not see me. They are of the species called Forsaken and are, apparently dead, yet functioning. I have not yet had the opportunity to ascertain how that is accomplished, but rest assured I shall. This provided the opportunity to record their physiology into the Transmutator. Image 2 is the result; I am posing as a Forsaken merchant. Image 3 shows Arbeth and her “pet”, Dr. Nope. She is what they call a Ranger and is my companion and guide on my journey to the capital, Undercity. That is where the Forsaken leader, Lady Sylvanas, dwells.

Arbeth led me to a village, Tarren Mill. Along the way, we encountered Worgen shown in Image 4, Owlkin shown in Image 5, Blood Elves shown in Image 6, and sundry other species of the so-called Horde as shown in Image 7: Tauren, Orcs, Goblins, Trolls, and Pandaren.

Apparently, the Alliance is made up of Humans, Night Elves (different from Blood Elves), Draenai, Gnomes, Worgen, and also Pandaren.

Before noon, we were attacked by Worgen from which I scavenged appropriate armor and weaponry. I observed a very odd phenomenon, the creature wearing the armor was substantially larger than myself and Arbeth. When she removed the armor, it seemed to shrink to her size. When she handed it to me, it expanded to the correct size to fit me perfectly. It seems to be an innate property of the armor.

We also acquired two beasts, called horses, as mounts. I observed Arbeth using Force persuasion to tame the two wild creatures. The use of the mounts will accelerate our travel time.

He added his personnel code and sent it to 2VR8. The droid would transfer it to Keeper.

He headed back to the Dead Rat Inn. When he entered the room, Arbeth was not yet back and Dr. Nope was squirming happily as a number of tiny spiders crawled over him. Bellon gave the multi-legged gang a wide berth, hugging the wall, and crawled into his bed.

He was so tired, he didn’t hear Arbeth stumble in much later and fall into her bed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellon and Arbeth pick up two more to join their party. Bellon finds weapons, tools, and armor in the strangest places, but it's good quality.

Bellon had to admire Arbeth’s stamina. She was up and moving, bright and early the next morning after tying one on the night before.

They returned to the tavern to break their fast. The crowd was much subdued from the night before but the food no-less delicious.

“Enjoy it while you can, Billy. Even with the horses, it will take us a couple of days to reach The Sludge Fields.”

“That sounds appealing,” Bellon rolled his eyes. “Why are we going there?”

“Warden Stillwater sent out a distress call that his guards were rioting. We’ve been asked to go help him out,” she explained. “I got us a couple of other jobs to do along the way. That will increase our cash flow,” she grinned.

“That does sound appealing. So what are the jobs?”

“To kill the Yeti lord, Yetimus, and bring his horn back.”

“But we don’t want to come back here, we want to get to the Sludge,” Bellon pointed out.

“We can fly back on Bats. Oh, and save some fawns from being eaten. That should be easy.”

“So what do we know about this Yetimus?” he asked.

Arbeth shrugged. “Other than he’s big, nothing. We’ll find out.”

“I’m not very accustomed to taking on a task and not having details,” Bellon told her. “At least something more than he’s big. What sort of weapons and defenses does he have? Does he have support? Where is he the most vulnerable?”

“Picky, picky, picky. Hi Torque.”

“Hey, Mamma jamma.” A goblin trotted up and slapped Arbeth’s hand. “This your main squeeze?” He stared at Bellon expectantly.

“No,” Bellon snarled glaring back.

“This is Billy. Billy, you didn’t have any of that information when those Worgen attacked and look how well you did. We’ll be fine. won’t we Torque?”

“He’s going with us?” Bellon asked surprised.

“Well, if she’s not your girl, you won’t mind if I put some of my irresistible slick moves on her.” The goblin plopped his oversized green hand on Arbeth’s knee. “Is the stiff any good?” He jerked his head at Bellon.

“He’s an assassin, yup, he’s good.”

“You said you weren’t going to tell anyone that,” Bellon hissed.

“Torque’s our new partner. He has a right to know.”

“So what can you do, Shorty?” Bellon demanded.

Bellon was suddenly on four tiny hooves, covered with thick wool, and standing on his chair. When he tried to speak, he bleated.

“Put him back, Torque!”

Bellon gasped when he was back in his Forsaken form. He never thought he would think it felt good. He gripped the edge of the table and calmed his rattled nerves. Never, ever, at any time in the history of the Jedi or the Sith had anyone been able to do what apparently just happened. He didn’t dare move or speak until he stopped shaking.

He glanced at his hands. His Transmutator wasn’t Force driven; it manipulated the DNA so fortunately had not been affected. This was going in the next report.

“Torque is a mage.” Arbeth announced. “Now you two have to learn to play nice. I know you both find me sexually irresistable, but just get over that because I’m the boss of our little group and I decide who my bed partner is. Have you eaten Torque? It’s going to be a long, busy day, and you need to store up mana.”

“Yeah, yeah, I ate, Mo-o-om. Sheesh.”

It turned out that Torque was the goblin who roared in on the trike the day before. Apparently, he had built it himself; he was a skilled engineer in addition to being a mage.

Spot and Black weren’t sure they liked the noise of his trike but seemed to accept it after a couple of miles. Bellon figured Dr. Nope really didn’t like the noise; the spider shadowed the group rather than trot along at his master’s side.

They travelled cross-country instead of following the road. This route took them along the base of two promontories. There were a lot of animals and Arbeth took the time to do some hunting and skinning. It turned out that she was a leather worker and had made the armor she wore.

Bellon was quite surprised at the amount of leather she amassed and how it all fit into her backpack with room for other equipment: change of clothes, weapons repair kit, hole puncher, needle and thread, cooking pan, fishing pole, an oblong stone, leather and meat from the ten animals she killed, wild fruit she had gathered, flint and steel, several glass vials with red liquid, eating utensils, and bandages.

Logically, all that should not fit in the backpack that looked large enough for only a change of clothes and her frying pan.

When they stopped for the evening, Torque took off to “do some shopping,” as he put it. It turned out he went looking for useful metals and gems for his engineering projects.

It was a beautiful night. Bellon found a quiet place away from the campfire and prying eyes. He transmitted a short brief to 2VR8, Report Two: Day Two, Goblin Mages. It detailed what Torque did to him that morning and asked someone to research any such occurrences. He then stretched out in the grass looking at the night sky.

He took a deep breath and scanned the stars. He could pick out the dim, persistent blinking light that was his X70-Phantom. That was reassuring. He guestimated where Dromund Kaas and the Chiss homeworld, Csilla, were in relation to this planet. Csilla was actually much closer than Dromund Kaas.

If it weren’t for this assignment, he and Loa would be preparing for a trip to Csilla and a visit to both their clans. Though his immediate family were dead, Bellon’s extended family and clan were alive and well and pestering him to visit and take a mate. He felt the weight on his heart and missed Loa. He should have posed the question of marriage before he left. He would have before their visit home; maybe even tonight as they sat on the couch together watching the holofire and sipping Alderanian wine.

“Yo, Billy,” Torque’s strident voice broke his reverie. “We’re sharing campfire stories. You gonna join us or be a party pooper?”

Bellon heaved himself to his feet. “I’m coming. Just enjoying the night.”

Bellon listened to Arbeth and Torque share their stories but didn’t add much. When he curled up to sleep, they were still chatting away.

He felt a body, not particularly warm or soft, settle down beside him. He knew that for some reason Dr. Nope had chosen to sidle up to him for the night. He suppressed the urge to shudder and fell asleep.

The morning sun in his eyes woke him. He was the second to wake up; Dr. Nope was the first and apparently had gone hunting. He kicked the fire back to life and heated up some of the meat Arbeth had started cooking the night before. The smell and sound of sizzling meat woke the other two.

Torque pulled a pot and some ground beans out of his backpack. He put the beans in a bag to boil in water in the pot. It was a good repast and the bitter drink was enervating. Torque said it was Kava.

“So how do we find this Yetimus?” Bellon asked as they broke camp.

“Won’t be too hard. He’s like 60 feet tall,” Torque announced.

“Never fought a rancor,” Bellon muttered unhappily.

“What?” Torque asked.

“Never mind. Let’s go; onward to death.” Bellon threw sarcastic enthusiasm into his words and leapt onto Spot.

They came broad grasslands where deer and fawns were trying to fend off a pride of big cats. Arbeth announced that their job was to cull the pride.

It was the first time he used the blunderbust. He knew he had to get close to hit the beasts; he hadn’t realize how ineffectual the weapon would be. Though he would hit the animal with what should have been a killing shot, the pellets didn’t penetrate. More often than not, he resorted to his knives to finish off the big cats.

He had the opportunity to watch Torque take a couple out with ice and lightening, typical Force attacks and quite effective. Suddenly the ground was shaking and all the animals scattered.

“Here comes Yetimus,” Torque shouted cheerfully.

The huge creature he pointed at walked on all fours; its front legs were long arms and it leaned on its knuckles. It had massive horns on its head, very large canine fangs protruding from its mouth, and its stomach nearly dragged on the ground. From its horns hung what seemed to be decorations. It had very small eyes.

Bellon would have liked to plan a strategy to attack such a large opponent, but Arbeth took a long-range shot that seemed to bounce harmlessly off the giant yeti’s forehead. Yetimus noticed and let out a roar; it began lumbering their direction.

Torque threw ice at the beast, which slowed it some. He then attacked with ice bolts while Arbeth peppered it with arrows.

Dr. Nope scurried around and attacked Yetimus with poisonous stings and bites to its heels and lower legs.

Bellon moved in as close as he dared and fired the blunderbuss. He cursed at the seeming ineffectuality of its scattered shot. When the creature became fixated on Torque, Bellon ran around to the creature’s side and fired a shot at its bulging midriff. To his horror, he saw the yeti leap and land near Torque then pound the goblin with its heavy fist. That meant he and Arbeth would have to up their attacks. Dr. Nope was still going for Yetimus’ heels; that gave Bellon an idea.

He pulled out the knives and dipped them in poison then ran around behind the creature. From behind, he could get under its sagging gut and slash it. Yetimus roared in pain spinning to see where the attack came from. Bellon grabbed hair on one of its hind legs and climbed up to the base of its spine. He drove both daggers deep into its neck.

He sat on the dead creature’s back and caught his breath as Arbeth started sawing off the horn.

“Sorry about Torque,” he told her.

“Aw, gee, it’s nice of you to care.” Torque stood up, shook himself and studied his crumpled remains. “I hate it when that happens. So, let’s see what this beastie has on him.”

Bellon stared at Torque. He looked fine, in fact he looked great as if they hadn’t spent the night sleeping rough or just battled big cats and a giant yeti. Torque looked like he had just arrived by speeder from Tarren Mill. Tonight’s report would be quite long.

“Torque, you get to keep anything Yetimus has on him. Billy, you and I will see what the cats we killed dropped.” Arbeth, unimpressed by Torque’s miraculous recovery from death, headed toward the nearest cat’s body.

“What do we do?” Bellon asked.

“Cut ‘em open. I’ll take the skins so don’t do a hash job.”

Bellon shook his head and picked a cat to gut. To his shock, the cat had in its intestines an old leather boot, five silver pieces, a fork, and a letter.

“Don’t throw it away, someone will buy it all. You never know what an alchemist or blacksmith can use,” Arbeth said when he was about to leave everything but the silver pieces.

He nodded his understanding and set the items aside to clean up before going into his backpack. He blinked; they were clean with no gore or guts on them. He saw Arbeth and Torque happily stuffing items in their backpacks. He shrugged and did the same.

He cut open the next cat and jumped back; a large, green orc’s head rolled out of its guts, and it had a complete chainmail hauberk in its anus. When Bellon first saw it, it was quite tiny; as soon as he picked it up, it was large enough to fit him.

“Nice,” Arbeth admired it. “Oh dear, Commander Hronk. Wondered what happened to him. You should wear that; it’s much more protective than the chestpiece you got off the Worgen.”

“It just came out of that cat’s ass,” Bellon stared at it.

“Yup, now it’s yours.”

“How did armor end up in a cat’s ass?” Bellon stared at it.

“Cause the cat ate Commander Hronk,” Arbeth explained.

“You want me to wear this?”

“It’s really good armor. Hronk might have been a douche bag but he had good equipment.” Arbeth began looking around. “Other cats must have eaten his other gear.”

“This just came out of a cat’s butt!” Bellon shuddered. It was pristine clean, however, as if he had picked it up off the shelf in an armory.

“Wa, wa, wa. You ain’t gonna wear it, give it to me. I’ll be happy to sell it.” Torque wandered over after gutting the yeti.

“No, I’m not giving it to you.” Bellon held the hauberk protectively. “I found it; it’s mine.” He stalked off to another cat. “Maybe one of these beasts ate a decent rifle.”

It took several hours to clear the site of all useable refuse. Dr. Nope was lying near the horses, which were grazing contentedly amid the carnage.

The three sat down near Torque’s trike to eat and assess their haul. Bellon noticed that Arbeth and Torque were trading items they found that were of more use to the other. Torque took anything vaguely mechanical, gems, and metals, while Arbeth took cloth and leather, claws and teeth.

“You’re an engineer, right?” Bellon asked Torque.

“Yeah.” Torque was tidying up items to go into his back pack.

“Can you make a bronzium tube?”

“You mean a bronze tube? Easy, peasy. Why?”

Bellon glared at the blunderbuss. “I need a much more reliable rifle than this.”

“Oh, I can make you a rifle; I just need to gather the materials.” Torque puffed his chest proudly. “For a price, of course.”

“No, I can assemble the rifle; I just need certain items and materials.”

Torque’s eyes widened and his ears perked forward. “You’re an engineer too?”

“Uh, yeah, of a sorts. Tell you what; you help me gather the materials and assemble the parts and I’ll give you the schematics for the rifle I make.” Bellon offered. “There is a condition, however: no one but you will ever have access to those schematics; you can’t sell or trade them to anyone. That would give you a monopoly.”

“Deal!” Torque spit on the palm of his hand and shoved it toward Bellon.

Bellon stared at the proffered hand with his arms folded across his chest.

“What? You don’t trust an honest Goblin’s handshake?” Torque pretended to be hurt but there was something knowing in his tone.

“A wise man once told me, ‘Trust no one.’ That advice has kept me alive,” Bellon responded.

“Okay, okay, I’ll write up a contract.” Torque dug into his backpack and pulled out parchment, engineer’s ink, and a quill pen. He wrote up the contract with Bellon leaning over his shoulder to ensure it said what Bellon wanted. It took a couple of tries to keep Torque from sneaking in money-making deals for himself; but they finally had a contract the two agreed upon. They signed it and Arbeth witnessed it.

“So, what do you need?” Torque asked preparing to write Bellon’s list on the back of a used parchment.

Bellon began listing metals and items he needed. With Torque’s knowledge of materials available, they created the list: bronze tube, iron tube, gold power cores, copper wiring, silver contacts, and a trigger mechanism

“I need to do some hunting and Torque will need to do some mining. We better get moving if we want to reach the Sludge Fields before dark,” Arbeth announced once the list was complete.

“I don’t know how to make all that stuff,” Torque said as he secured his backpack to his tike. The schematic involved several precisely gauged tubes and strange wiring.

“I know how to make it; I’ll teach you,” Bellon assured.

They set off westward again traveling close to the rock outcroppings. They stopped frequently. While Arbeth was hunting or Torque mining, Bellon filmed them for his report.

It was late in the day, when they could see greenish smoke rising from the direction of the Sludge Fields. The breeze was toward them. Bellon fought the urge to gag at the smell. As they got nearer, the wind carried the sound of many voices moaning.

The eastern gate into the compound was blocked by a Tauren standing next to a gaudily colored Kodo. “Halt adventurers.” It was a female Tauren.

“What’s wrong?” Arbeth asked riding to the large creature’s side.

“That!” The Tauren pointed at a plowed and tilled field with human heads sticking out of the dirt. “I realize the humans are our enemies; but that is an affront to the Holy Light.” She spit into the ground as if to expel a bad taste.

Bellon shuddered. It was the cries of the humans they had been hearing. “What are they doing here?”

The Tauren growled. “An apothecary asked me to check up on a friend, Apothecary Lydon. Apparently he was sent here to investigate and report on the progress of Warden Stillwater in regards to pushing the humans out of the Hillsbrad Foothills. Lydon’s friend said that he hasn’t been heard from and that was unlike Apothecary Lydon. His friend asked me to come find Lydon.” She gestured at the field. “This is what I found.”

“Why?” Torque asked.

“To ‘grow’ humans to be turned into Forsaken?” The Tauren shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine; I arrived only moments before you.”

“Can we help them? Can we put them out of their misery?” Bellon asked.

“Let’s do as Billy suggests; put them out of their misery,” Arbeth suggested unslinging her bow and notching an arrow.

“Murder the helpless?” The Tauren was horrified and shook her bovine head. “I cannot. We can release them. At least then they will have a fighting chance.”

“I like that better,” Bellon agreed. This Warden Stillwater sounded like a true Sith. “Then we can deal with this Stillwater chap.”

“I like that idea. I’m with the paladin and Billy.” Torque shut off his trike and dismounted. He pulled a shovel out of his backpack and headed toward the field.

The others followed suit. Bellon found a shovel in a garden shed and the four set about digging up the hapless people. As each came free, he or she thanked them profusely and fled the Sludge Fields.

They were about one-third of the way through when a towering, skeletal being shuffled into the area. It saw the four and charged.

Torque dropped his shovel and threw an ice ball that caused the creature to hesitate. The Tauren unslung her shield and flung it at the beast’s neck. That made it stagger back; however it was not a killing blow. Arbeth was firing exploding arrows as Torque continued peppering it with ice.

The Tauren had drawn a sword and was charging in when her shield returned to her hand. There was a blinding flash of light shaped like a hammer, which struck the beast squarely on the top of its head. It fell to its knees. Bellon darted in as the Tauren had its attention.

Dr. Nope was at Bellon’s side. The two attacked from behind with poisonous blades and fangs.

Shortly, the beast lay still. Several humans had been crushed in the fight and its fall.

“The Town clerk,” the paladin Tauren explained. “Stillwater’s doing.”

“That guy is whacked!” Bellon spit angrily as he picked up his shovel.

“You said it, Billy. Let’s take him out. The Horde doesn’t need his type of whacko.” Torque leaned on Bellon’s leg. “Back to work?”

“Back to work,” Bellon agreed.

It took a couple of hours to free the survivors and finish burying those that hadn’t survived the fight. In that time, they saw Town Clerk wandering through another part of the Town, but it didn’t come back to the field. The fact it didn’t STAY dead was frustrating for Bellon; he wasn’t used to death not being permanent.

“Now what?” Torque asked wiping sweat off his brow.

“We find any survivors and confront Warden Stillwater,” the Tauren snarled.

“Before we go any further,” Bellon stopped her. “I think introductions are in order. I am Billy Dekidt.”

The Tauren took a calming breath. “Civility should never be ignored. You are correct, Master Dekidt. I am Luxraina, Sunseeker Paladin of the Blackhoof clan.” She bowed her head.

“Arbeth Williams.”

“Torque Sparkshiv.”

“Luxraina means Queen of the light,” Bellon noted with a smile.

The Tauren nodded returning what passed for a smile on a Tauren. “Let us clean up this mess.”

“Wish we had you, a paladin, when we were fighting Yetimus,” Torque said.

“You might not have gotten squished,” Arbeth cheerfully countered.

“Ah, another abomination accounted for.” Luxraina whistled and her Kodo trotted up to her.

Bellon wondered at that. If the Town Clerk hadn’t stayed dead, what was to say Yetimus hadn’t as well.

They retrieved their mounts and the paladin led the way through the Sludge Fields. In a field of mushrooms just to the north, they entered a small chapel. A Forsaken Apothecary was locked in a cage while a Blood Elf wailed in mourning at the death of his mount, Twinkles. They freed the apothecary who turned out to be Lydon, the investigator sent from Undercity; he explained Stillwater had imprisoned him to keep him quiet. The Blood Elf was a Paladin, Johnny Awesome, sent here to help Warden Stillwater quell his so-called riot.

They had to fight several more mutated towns people and guards before they reached the western end where Stillwater had his headquarters. He was waiting outside for news that his problem had been rectified.

“You are the monster!” Luxraina seemed to be of the same tactical training as Arbeth, attack on sight.

Against six angry beings, Stillwater didn’t stand a chance, and he had few loyal guards to come to his aid. One shield to his chest and the apothecary, Lydon, wrapping him in binding made it a very short fight.

The Blood Elf, who was not very good at being a paladin, wanted to kill Stillwater in revenge for the death of Twinkles. Lydon stilled the elf. “I will take him to Lady Sylvanas Windrunner. There will be retribution for his crimes. True-death awaits you, Stillwater.”

“Well, that turned out to be quite an adventurous day,” Bellon announced collapsing exhausted on the ground. His report tonight would be quite long.

Report Three: Day Three, Cat-butt Armor and Human Seedlings. Death is little more than a painful inconvenience in this world. Torque was squashed to a pulp; I swear on the Emperor himself, he was dead as dead could be. Not 20 standard minutes later, he stands up hale and hearty and hungry. We had been hunting before we battled this Rancor-sized Yeti with a temperament to match. It squashed Torque.

We had been culling big cats that were decimating the deer population. While gutting the cats, I came upon a chainmail hauberk in a cat’s anus. This world also has a passing acquaintance with physics as well as death. The hauberk was smaller than my hand as it lay in the anus; as soon as I picked it up, it expanded to fit me. I’m wearing it now, at Arbeth’s insistence. There was no gore, no decay due to digestive juices, nothing; it looked like it had been lying in shop, not gone through a digestive tract.

We traveled to a farm now called the Sludge Fields (I’m trying to figure out what ‘sludge’ is). As we approached, we heard crying. In a two-acre field humans had been buried up to their necks. Apparently, the supervisor of the Sludge Fields seemed to think that was how to get more humans. We freed as many as possible at the insistence of a Tauren paladin (Image 2). She’s very large so I don’t think anyone wanted to argue with her. We also had to fight former residents of the farm and guards that had been mutated into monstrosities. As with Torque, these too refused to stay dead.

A paladin is an “agent of the Light,” according to Luxraina. It doesn’t seem to matter which faction a paladin fights for as long as he or she promotes the Light. I think she believes her power is divinely bestowed. Wherever it comes from, her power is prodigious.

Tomorrow, we are going to someplace called Southshore at the insistence of an apothecary who says he directly reports to the Forsaken leader, Sylvanas Windrunner. An apothecary or archmage is their equivalent to a Darth, comparable in Force power. Torque is a mage, the equivalent of a Lord of the Sith.

He attached the videos he had taken surreptitiously and sent it all to 2VR8.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy learns why Murlocs are the WORST! They deal with an ambush by Worgen soldiers of the Gilnean Liberation Front; or is that the Liberation Front of Gilneas? The four strangers are starting to form a team.

The next morning, the party, now four, set out mounted on their various modes of travel for Southshore. The sky was overcast and threatening rain. A chill wind was blowing from the north.

Just before they left, an alchemist asked them to “harvest eggs off bears” along the way and bring them to a fellow alchemist in Southshore.

Bellon set up his holorecorder so that he could film events of the day without anyone noticing.

They headed south, crossing the road, then traveled vaguely southeast. The area was open fields filled with animals. Progress was slow with Arbeth killing animals for their skin and meat and Luxraina and Torque running off to mine useful metals. They seemed to be able to smell an ore vein. Apparently, Luxraina was a blacksmith.

After about an hour’s travel, Dr. Nope chittered happily and darted off to greet a group of spiders lounging in the grass under a tree. Not far away, were brown bears with large, unsightly, white welts all over their backs.

Arbeth brought down a bear and immediately began carefully removing the welts. These were the eggs they were supposed to harvest; spider eggs had been implanted in the bears to be nourished off the life essence of the living creature.

Bellon shook his head at the oddity of it all but joined the other three in the harvesting. He decided it was a mercy to kill the bears since they all looked emaciated and anemic.

After they were done harvesting, they took a break to allow Arbeth time to skin the bears. Luxraina and Torque again wandered off after ore. Left alone Bellon did a quick review and edit of the video then reset his recorder.

“Found gold and silver, Billy,” Torque happily announced as he returned.

“What do you need those for?” Arbeth asked.

“Gold power cores and silver contacts for Billy’s fancy rifle,” Torque explained. “I’ll get to work on them as soon as I can set up my forge and shop.”

“Set up your forge?” Bellon asked. He pointedly looked at their supplies, which obviously did not include a forge and engineer’s shop.

“I should be able to once we reach Southshore,” Torque explained.

They mounted up and began traveling again. Bellon noticed they were west of the area he and Arbeth had crossed while traveling to Tarren Mill. The hairs on his neck were on end.

“We’re being watched,” he announced in a lowered voice.

Arbeth casually unslung her bow and eased an arrow loose from her quiver; she then chittered at Dr. Nope. The spider began moving back and forth across their path. Suddenly he jumped and there was a canine yelp.

The other three fired simultaneously hitting the camouflaged Worgen. What was left was not much more than a puddle of gore.

“There are others,” Bellon suggested. He studied an area very carefully, pulled out one of his knives, and threw it. It hit another hidden Worgen who roared and charged the group firing a rifle. “His rifle’s better than mine,” Bellon yelled and dove off Spot running his other dagger into the attacker’s heart.

As he wrested the weapon from the dead scout’s hands, a bolt of ice streaked over his head. Torque hit another Worgen rushing at Bellon.

Luxraina was setting off flashes of light that were exposing the hiding places of other ambushing Worgens. Torque was madly throwing ice bolts and ice balls as Arbeth fired off arrows at an astonishing rate; each was hitting its mark.

Bellon did a quick check and found there were several shots in the rifle. He knelt to provide a small target and stable firing base and began carefully and methodically firing. One shot one kill for each round left in the rifle.

He stood up and stared at the rifle with disgust.

“That was amazing!” Arbeth cheered grinning at Bellon. “I’ve never seen shooting like that.”

The other two joined her.

“The balance sucks and the aim is off. It is better than the blunderbuss; so I’ll keep it for now.” It had a shoulder strap so he could sling it. He went over each of the dead and gathered over 100 rounds of ammunition. Torque told him to keep the blunderbuss for parts that might be useable for the “fancy” rifle. The blunderbuss went into Bellon’s backpack without making it discernibly heavier or full.

“Man, Billy, you are the pickiest.” Torque started digging through his backpack grumbling. “Ah-hah, here you go. It’s a crude scope; not nearly as good as the one we’ll make for your fancy rifle; but it’s better than a kick in the ass.” He tossed the scope over.

It slipped easily onto the rifle. Bellon sighted through it. “Yeah, that’ll help tons. Aw, great, here comes the rain.” He held out his hand as huge, fat drops started falling.

Luxraina stood over one of the Worgen Bellon had shot. “You shot him straight through the heart. What’s wrong with that?”

“I was aiming for between the eyes,” Bellon groused. “These guys are wearing the same tabards as the ones you and I killed, Arbeth.” He tore one of the tabards off and wrapped up his new rifle to protect it from the increasing rain.

“Yeah, they’re with the Gilneas Liberation Front.” She kicked a body over before going over it for salvage.

“We better get moving,” Luxraina finally urged. “I do not think it would be wise to camp out in this area with their compatriots out there.”

They remounted and picked up speed. Bellon could smell it before he saw the low roofs of the village of Southshore. The structures were in various states of disrepair. In and among the buildings were putrid green pools which were home to slimy blobs.

A Blood Elf female armed with a bow and accompanied by a spider, not unlike Dr. Nope, directed the party to a cluster of purple tents on a hillock at the edge of the village. Off to the side was the crosstree with bats hanging at rest from it. Not far from that, a Forsaken stood at a table covered with wares. Two Blood Elves and two Forsaken stood around another table in the midst of the tents.

Arbeth delivered the eggs they had harvested to the salesman, who paid them four gold pieces, one each.

Torque chuckled and rubbed his bony hands in glee after dropping the coin into his change purse. They then approached the group at the table. Arbeth introduced the party and announced why they were there.

“Good, good. We could use some energetic young bloods such as yourselves,” one of the Blood Elves said. “We have the oozlings to contend with, Murlocs sneaking in and stealing our supplies, Worgen scouts attacking in numbers the Dark Rangers can’t keep up with, and Nagas amassing along the beach to the south. Where do you want to start?”

“I’ve had enough of Worgen for one day,” Bellon grumbled.

“We have been traveling for the past 12 hours. I for one am wet, tired, and hungry,” Luxraina announced.

“Same here, and I’d like to get some smelting done. Where can we set up a safe camp?” Torque asked.

One of the Forsaken shrugged. “Camp anywhere; nothing will be safe until the aforementioned are dealt with.”

“I suggest the old inn.” Luxraina pointed at the least dilapidated of the buildings with a broken sign dangling near the door. “At least we can be approached from only one direction.”

Arbeth nodded and headed that way leading her horse, Black. They put the horses and trike just inside the entry way. The kodo didn’t fit so was left outside further blocking the door. Dr. Nope settled on an old cushioned bench inside.

Luxraina volunteered to cook for the evening and set up in the old kitchen. She made a fire out of broken furniture.

Bellon and Arbeth explored the second floor and basement to clear out any unwanted roommates.

Torque, dug into his backpack and pulled out a heavy, anvil shaped object; he set it in the common room fireplace. When Bellon returned, the forge was burning hot and Torque was smelting his metals.

Bellon realized that this forge had hand bellows that were operating on their own. This was a technology not in keeping with the otherwise primitive nature of this culture. He studied the forge carefully then reviewed Torque’s engineering tools and instruments. They would be sufficient to calibrate the size of the inner bronze barrel and outer iron barrel.

After they ate, Luxraina took her turn at the forge while Torque and Bellon created the gold power cores and silver contacts. Bellon showed Torque how to make the power cores and contacts more precise and durable at the small size he required.

Bellon had to stay awake to find the privacy necessary to submit his report. He reviewed the footage he had recorded and picked out the clearest and most informative: a film of the bears, a film of the battle showing Luxraina calling upon the Light and Torque’s ice attacks, and a film of the oozlings.

Report Four: Day Four, Bears Bearing Eggs and No Difference Between Magic and Technology: We have reached Southshore, which is apparently infested with oozlings, the green blobs shown in Video 3, and other creatures: Nagas, Murlocs, and Worgen. The Worgen are the bi-pedal canids. I have not yet seen what Nagas and Murlocs are.

Along the way, we were asked to harvest spider eggs. These had been implanted on bears as shown in Video 1. It was a mercy to free the beasts from the suffering of the eggs draining them of nourishment and blood. These eggs we delivered to a merchant here in Southshore. I don’t know their ultimate purpose.

We also had a run-in with Worgen ambushers. Aspects of that altercation can be seen in Video 2. You will note Luxraina calling down bolts of blinding light to expose the hidden attackers and Torque’s use of the Force to throw ice. Arbeth explained that these Worgen are members of the Gilneas Liberation Front, ergo the uniforms they wear; I believe the GLF is part of the Alliance.

We arrived in Southshore about an hour before dusk. Southshore is a former human village; it is now under the control of the Horde. We have taken shelter in an abandoned inn to get out of the rain and minimize our vulnerability to the aforementioned threats.

Torque pulled a portable forge out of his backpack, both of which are visible in accompanying Video 4. You will note that no one is operating the bellows. There is a point here in which magic, as they call it, becomes indistinguishable from technology.

I should like to know if anyone has had any luck on researching instances of transformation such as I experienced two days ago. Torque has not performed anymore such feats. As I am supposed to be a denizen of this world, I don’t feel able to ask him how he does what he does, or ask the same of Luxraina. During the battle with the Worgen, Arbeth exhibited unparalleled skill and speed in firing her bow and arrows; that shouldn’t be possible especially considering the degenerated state of her muscles and tendons. The Force must be in play.

Off it went to 2VR8 as had the reports before.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellon might hate murlocs but finds there is a use for them, a tasty use. Also, he needs a better gun; so he makes one, then learns what happens when you piss off a dwarf.

## Chapter 6

Bright and early, the four were out killing the oozlings. To Bellon’s dismay, as quickly as they killed them, more seemed to appear out of the slimy ponds. Killing them wasn’t too hard as the oozlings didn’t have the sense to be offensive until after they were attacked and had little in the way of defensive mechanisms.

They found the best way to kill the oozlings was to hit them with a light, fire, and ice attack, or attack until they exploded then burn the remains. However, their efforts seemed ineffectual.

“We are beating our heads against a wall here,” Bellon told the other three. “I think the ponds are spawning them. Eliminate the ponds; eliminate the oozlings.”

The four stared at one pond and watched another green blob form and begin slopping about.

“Do those ponds have a purpose?” He asked. When he got just blank stares from the other three, he headed to the purple tents at the edge of the village and posed the question to the four standing around the table.

“That is residue from the plague used to destroy the previous inhabitants,” one of the Forsaken, Hercula, explained.

Bellon posed his theory and the idea that getting rid of the ponds of sludge would stop the further spawning of the oozlings. The four around the table exchanged glances as if waiting for one of the others to make a decision.

At last Hercula seemed to take responsibility. “There’s only one way to find out. We need samples from each of the ponds and from the oozlings to determine whether or not they have the same properties. Would you and your friends be willing to undertake that task?”

Bellon resisted the urge to ask them why the hell they couldn’t do it and accepted the job. One of the Blood Elves directed the merchant to part with 20 of his precious glass vials; these he gave to Bellon.

Bellon handed each member of the party five vials. Each one picked a pond in which to work. It should be easy: scoop some sludge out of the pond and get samples off some of the apparently inoffensive oozlings.

With the pond sample taken and marked, Bellon went to the nearest blob and stuck a vial in its side. The blob immediately spurted slime onto Bellon from the wound then spun attacking. It seemed it took offense to having some of its being filched.

The spurt of slime hit Bellon in the face and he yelped in shock. “Shit went in my mouth!” He recovered quickly enough to fend off the oozling’s attack.

He didn’t have the ability to attack with fire or ice or light so began beating it with a stick; bullets were completely useless and too precious to waste. When the oozling finally exploded all over him, he used a torch to burn the remains before it coagulated back together again. He stood wiping the green yuck from his eyes and hands. Then saw, lying on the ground a pair of leather greaves and coinage. He pocketed these and went after another oozling. He reversed the process first beating the thing until it exploded then taking the sample before torching it.

When he finished, he was covered head to foot with putrid green slime while his compatriots had accomplished their tasks from a distance.

He was certain he had slime in every facial orifice. “I feel like I got a mouth full of diarrhea.” He spit frantically while trying to find something clean to wipe his eyes and nose.

“That is an unpleasant image,” Torque countered.

“Shut it!” Bellon handed Luxraina his vials. “Please represent me. I’m going to go clean off in the ocean before I vomit.”

“No, don’t, you look like a tall version of me,” Torque urged.

“That makes me feel so much better,” Bellon growled and headed toward the docks.

After turning in the samples, the others found him sitting on the remains of a pier looking northwest across the water. In the distance rose a mountainous land mass shrouded in dark, heavy clouds.

“What’s that?” He asked.

“That is Gilneas, or what’s left of it,” Arbeth told him. “The Forsaken overran it and drove the Gilneans out.”

“Why?” Bellon noticed a lack of enthusiasm on her part. “Why not just leave them be?” He glanced at her. “Playing devil’s advocate here.”

She stretched her arms and indicated all the land in sight. “This used to all be part of the Kingdom of Lordaeron, including Gilneas. We the Forsaken are what remains of the citizens of Lordaeron.” She tapped her chest. “When Arthas turned us into the Scourge, the people of Gilneas shut themselves off from the rest of the kingdom and built a massive wall to protect themselves.” She pointed at the distant mountains. “Sylvanas believes Gilneas is our land and the Worgen are freaks and not welcomed among the Forsaken.”

It was a stance that to Bellon was full of holes, but he let it drop.

They went back to the inn and had a mid-day meal then returned to the shore line and headed north. They were to eliminate the Murlocs. Arbeth had insisted that Bellon bring the blunderbuss rather than the rifle; reluctantly he did despite her not explaining why.

About two miles up the shore, they saw small thatched and wood huts on stilts at the water’s edge; brightly colored creatures moved around the huts and in and out of the water.

Arbeth told Bellon to keep the blunderbuss at the ready and the group moved forward cautiously. As they drew closer, Bellon could make out the details on the creatures: about one meter tall, covered with multi-colored scales, gills and fins for life in the water, and webbed feet and lungs for life on the land. There weren’t too many.

“So, what is the issue with them?” Bellon asked quietly.

“They swarm and steal,” Luxraina explained. “They are also not averse to eating whatever they kill. You can’t regenerate if you’ve been eaten.”

Bellon shuddered.

“Billy and Torque, you guard Luxraina’s and my backs.” Arbeth and the Tauren moved to where the Muloc village residents were within their long-range attacks and opened fire.

Suddenly, the air was full of gurgling yells and hundreds of the creatures swarmed from the water and surrounding dunes. Bellon opened fire at close range with the scattered shot of the blunderbuss. Torque began calling down a blizzard of snow and ice on the creatures. Luxraina let out a roar and began swinging her mace and shield killing several Murlocs with each sweep.

The Murlocs weren’t hard to kill but there were so many of them and they didn’t stay dead. They swarmed and hit with jets of water and stabbed with short blades made from shells, rock, and bones. Fortunately the armor protected the humanoids but some of the hits got through and drew blood.

The village emptied and the entire local population of Murlocs was focused on the four.

Every now and then, Luxraina bathed her compatriots in a light that seemed to heal the wounds and fill them with renewed energy.

One very small Murloc climbed up Bellon and bit his nose. He grabbed the tiny creature and wrung its neck then cut off its head before throwing its body at the nearest adult. The four were standing back to back firing off every weapon and spell they had into the slowly diminishing horde of fish critters.

Just as Bellon thought they were getting the better of the miserable fish-things, they were hit by another swarm. He cursed profusely and went on shooting and stabbing. He noticed that the ones that were dismembered regenerated either much more slowly or not at all, depending on what was severed and how far apart the body parts were.

It seemed ages before the last one lay dead on the pile that surrounded them. Luxraina was calling down light roasting the corpses.

“Check for salvageable,” Torque cheered and began going through the pile of burnt bodies.

For Bellon, this grisly, post-battle ritual was becoming normal. It seemed to be the party’s chief means of income in addition to the goods and money they were paid by those who hired them. They also found all the remaining crates of supplies that the Murlocs had stolen from the Southshore contingent.

“Gather as many intact fins as possible,” Luxraina urged. “I’ll make Murloc Fin Soup tonight.”

“What’s that?” Bellon asked.

Arbeth smacked what was left of her lips. “Only the tastiest soup you’ve ever had.”

“If it’s made right. Do you make it right?” Torque asked Luxraina.

Bellon slapped the back of Torque’s head. “I’m sure she does.” He stared at the pile. “Seems a fitting end for them after the grief they caused us. One little bastard bit me on the nose.” He touched his tender nose.

“Uh-oh, that means you’ll turn into one the night of a full moon,” Torque backed away worried.

Arbeth slapped the goblin as Bellon glared down at him.

“Okay, okay.” Torque started laughing. “But the look on your face there for a moment was priceless!”

They returned the crates to the four on the hillock and set off to take care of Nagas, which were along the shore south of the village. For this Arbeth suggested Bellon take the more accurate rifle. He was happy to oblige.

“So why are we doing all this work and they aren’t doing any?” Bellon asked.

“Because those four are cowards,” Arbeth explained. “The Dark Rangers think they’re too good for such ‘menial labor’ and are meant only to take care of the Worgen problem.”

“They don’t seem to be doing a very good job of it if you ask me,” Bellon retorted. “It seems we did that coming in yesterday.”

Torque snorted a laugh. “Yeah, just don’t say that out loud. The Dark Rangers are the Banshee Queen’s favored ones. Smile and lie about how wonderful they are and they won’t get in our way.”

Bellon suddenly stopped and stared. “Is that a Naga?” he asked pointing at a multi-armed, blue and green snake-like creature undulating along the sand on its back half. It was wearing armor and carried a trident.

“Yup,” Torque said then giggled. A moment later, the Naga was a bleating sheep.

“At least it wasn’t me,” Bellon said taking aim. The shot killed the sheep but drew the attention of other Nagas.

Another fight was on. These creatures didn’t swarm and there weren’t as many. However, there were some Force adepts among them attacking with blasts of air and water.

That evening, they relished the Murloc Fin Soup. Bellon and Torque then began calibrating a very precisely sized bronze tube. It was very late when they finished. Bellon was exhausted so his report was simply a copious amount of video attached to:

Report Five: Day Five, MRGGLG-BRGGL-GRGGL (I hate Murlocs but they taste good).

********

Before dawn, they saddled up and left Southshore before the Four on the Hillock woke and were able to con them into doing more work for them. They followed the road north not offering assistance to the Dark Rangers in their task of containing the Worgen. They picked up the road that ran north-south and by evening rode back into Tarren Mill, where they turned in Yetimus’ horn.

The reward was substantial and they enjoyed an evening of good food and drink at the tavern and top-of-the-line accommodations at the Dead Rat Inn for several days, an entire floor to themselves with their own privy.

Bellon and Torque used the time to finish the sniper rifle. The four admired the finished product. The barrel was longer than the good rifle Bellon appropriated in South Shore and was slightly heavier. He knew it would be more accurate. Unfortunately, as the sight had gone onto the other rifle easily, it wouldn’t come off in one piece to be reused on the sniper rifle.

“This guy is an artiste,” Torque told other two, his eyes seemed ready to pop out of his head in awe. “He could practically feel any imperfections and his calibration…”

“Shut it, Torque,” Bellon snapped not particularly comfortable with the praise.

“Where is the ammunition?” Arbeth asked.

“The power cores are the ammunition,” Bellon explained.

“That’s why we made so many; each one will only last a few shots.” Torque carefully rolled up the schematic and tucked it safely into his backpack. If this worked, he had a monopoly on a cash cow. He could give the rifles away and make all his money on the replacement power cores. “Let’s see how well it works,” Torque nudged Bellon’s leg.

Bellon hadn’t told him that a more durable and powerful pulse blaster could be made with native materials. That was his secret; besides, he had to gather the materials. He rested the rifle over his shoulder, grabbed Torque’s engineering kit, and led the way to an open field outside the village.

“What are you going to shoot at?” Luxraina asked studying the wide open spaces.

“That squirrel,” Bellon pointed to a tree about 30 meters away where a small creature could just be seen sitting on a branch. He squatted, took aim, and fired. There was a hissing-whizzing sound, a flash of light, and the branch shattered.

“Whoa!” Torque took off running followed by Arbeth. “What an amazing shot.”

“I missed the squirrel,” Bellon complained. “The sights need calibrating.”

“Missed it? You turned it into jelly,” Arbeth called back from the tree.

“I hit the branch. It exploded and that killed the squirrel, not the shot.” Bellon dug into Torque’s tool kit and began adjusting the sights. “Try this again.”

He began scanning the area again. “Ah, that bird.” Again he settled himself, took aim, and fired. All they could see was an explosion of feathers. “Better but not perfect.”

“There’s nothing left of the bird but feathers,” Arbeth reported after checking.

This time, Bellon broke open the rifle at the joint of the stock to the barrels and adjusted the contacts, power core, and crystal; he noticed he could get two more shot out of that power core; four shots per core. He closed the rifle, recalibrated the sights, picked another target, and set up another shot.

This time there were no feathers and Bellon stood grinning. “She’s good to go.” He chambered a fresh power core and cradled the rifle in the crook of his elbow with the barrel pointing down.

“But you missed,” Luxraina noted.

“No he didn’t.” Arbeth ran back with the body of the second bird. It was intact except for a single hole in its head.

“What’s the range on that thing?” Torque asked in awe.

Bellon shrugged. “40 meters for a killing shot.”

“Well I know who’s taking point from now on,” Torque picked up his engineer kit.

They headed back to the tavern to get something to eat and drink.

It was while at the tavern that they heard Sylvanas Windrunner was looking for talented fighters to help her clear up an undisclosed mess in Silverpine Forest. The next day, the four set out due west along the road toward the forest.

Their first evening out they camped in the area where they had killed Yetimus. Torque had amassed the necessary materials to make Bellon an accurate scope for his rifle.

Bellon fitted it to his sniper rifle and in the bright light of the early morning, walked north of the camp toward one of the promontories. Looking through the scope, he scanned the country side for a suitable target.

What he saw was a squat humanoid with a massive red beard in which he had braided decorations. It was hard to see him with the naked eye but the scope brought him into stark relief.

“What you aiming at?” Torque asked.

“Shush!” Bellon took a deep breath and let half out. He squeezed the trigger. There was the hiss-whiz-pop of the emission; Bellon saw one particularly gaudy decoration fly off. “Excellent!” he cheered.

“What the hell did you shoot at?” Torque asked somewhat startled. “Oh, Shit, RUN!”

“I shot a bead off the beard of some short creep.” Bellon explained. His sharp hearing picked up a distant rumbling and clanking noise.

“That was a dwarf you ass. Those bastards are crazy. Run.” Torque was waddling as fast as he could back to the camp and his trike. “Get out of here.” He hollered at the two females.

“What? What!? They have tanks.” Bellon saw a line of large, clunky vehicles roll up along the edge of the promontory. There was a puff of smoke followed by a boom. He started running.

“They have tanks. Why don’t we have tanks?” He was grabbing up his gear as he hurried toward Spot. Spot was looking a little anxiously at the in-coming missile.

“They have fucking Gnomes. Gnomes are crazier than Goblins.” Arbeth jumped on Black and heeled him into a gallop away as the second and third missiles were closing in on their camp.

“You had to go and shoot the beard off a fucking Dwarf. Are you fucking daft?” Torque gunned his engine.

They ran about two miles before they were out of range of the tank guns; but they didn’t stop their run to safety until they had passed the Sludge Fields.

“Someone explain to me why Dwarves have tanks and what makes them so fearsome,” Bellon demanded once they stopped.

“Gnomes design the tanks. The Dwarves are renowned for their prowess and fearlessness in battle; they are also very adept at manufacturing,” Luxraina explained in her inimitable calm.

“Put all those together and you have recipe for carnage.” Arbeth leaned on Black’s whithers.

“Carnage? What’s carnage?” Torque  asked.

“Billy, please, next time double check with us before you randomly shoot someone. What if that had been Magni Bronzebeard? We’d have all of Ironforge chasing us into the depths of hell.” Arbeth took a deep breath.

“I didn’t hurt him; I just shot a thingie off his beard,” Bellon explained.

“That was probably an ancestral rune he was wearing in his beard; very sacred if you’re a Dwarf,” Luxraina explained. “Let us travel on. We still have a long way to go.”

The group began moving again.

“I didn’t hurt him,” Bellon defended in a soft voice.

“You did worse; you insulted him,” Torque countered equally soft. “What’s carnage?”

“Butchery.” Bellon noticed Torque shake his head. “Massacre… lots of death.”

Torque nodded at that.

Between random attacks, Arbeth’s skinning every animal they came across, and Luxraina and Torque traipsing off after metals, it took them three full traveling days to reach Southpoint Gate. A by-product of the mining was precious and semi-precious gems. Bellon eyed those critically.

Southpoint Gate was a fortified wall tucked into a gap in the rocky outcropping that ran north and south along the western edge of the Hillsbrad Foothills. An orc guard at the gate told them that Lady Windrunner’s Headquarters was at the Forsaken Front just north of Pyrewood Village due west. They camped that night at the gate and continued west in the morning.

The passage through the hills was very narrow. Again with the others going after whatever materials they could, they travelled slowly and by the end of the day had just reached where the pass sloped down into the lowland forest of this region.

Bellon started accompanying Luxraina on her mining forays to learn from her how to identify and extract the minerals. She was a very patient and thorough teacher. She let him use her pickaxe and coached him through mining a small copper vein. When he asked how she knew where the ores were, she explained that as he got better at mining, he would get better at identifying the veins. At first he didn’t believe her but as the day and training wore on, he found he seemed to be developing a sixth sense about where to find the veins.

He hadn’t sent a report in over a week feeling he didn’t have anything of significance to report. He thought momentarily about sending “Report Six: Day Thirteen, Not Dead Yet but not for lack of trying.” He decided he didn’t want to tell Keeper or Vowrawn about pissing off a crazy Dwarf. Instead he rolled into his blankets and fell asleep under a clear, starry, Azeroth sky.

He woke briefly at some point in the night to a small earthquake but it didn’t last and there were no aftershocks. He quickly fell back to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellon meets Sylvanas Windrunner, leader of the Forsaken, and Warchief Garrosh Hellscream. He is also starting to learn about some of the problems that plague Azeroth.

Chapter 7

“What the Hell is that?” Bellon asked looking up at the sky the next morning.

“Whoa, shit!” Torque stepped back staring at a huge, multi-colored, gassy, planet-sized object in close orbit above them.

“That is the portend of evil; the Burning Legion has arrived at Azeroth.” Luxraina said a fervent prayer.

Arbeth actually lost what little color she had in her cheeks when she saw it. She lay a hand on Dr. Nope drawing courage from his presence.

“That must be the ‘little mess’ The Dark Lady needs help with,” Torque suggested.

Bellon shook his head. “We’d have seen it before. That arrived in the night.” He remembered being roused by a small quake. He picked up his gear and headed for Spot. “We won’t learn anything standing here gawping like a bunch of fools. Let’s find Sylvanas and ask her.

He hung back as the others started off down into the lowlands. He took a recording of the anomaly and immediately sent it to 2VR8 asking it to explain where it came from and what it was. It wasn’t long after he caught up with the others that his communicator buzzed. He glanced at it. 2VR8 reported that there was nothing in orbit around the planet of Azeroth; it was accompanied by a recording of empty space around the Phantom as well as the negative scanner reads. 2VR8 assured it would recalibrate all the sensors and run the diagnostics but did not believe the problem was with the ship’s equipment.

“Billy, What’s up?” Torque stopped not far ahead of him. “What you got there?”

“Just looking at a strange bug,” Bellon smoothly covered up and slipped the communicator back into his haversack.

“Don’t like bugs; keep it away from me.” Torque shifted into gear and gunned the engine to catch up to the two females.

Bellon urged Spot into a trot. He looked up to ensure the gassy planet was still there. It hung silent and ominous in the bright morning light. It seemed to be hollow with bits coming off. It made his skin crawl and hackles stand on end.

“So what’s the Burning Legion?” He asked.

“Demons and devils; they want to take over Azeroth and enslave all who live here. They are of the dark.” Luxraina explained. “They first invaded the Broken Isles via portals.” She sighed heavily. “I encountered their scouts in the Northern Barrens some time ago.”

“I remember hearing about that,” Torque said. “That happened just before I arrived at Orgrimmar.”

“Northern Barrens, Orgrimmar?” Bellon asked. “Is that all on one of the other continents?”

“You have been out of it, haven’t you,” Arbeth snorted. “Orgrimmar is the home of the Warchief Garrosh Hellscream and sits in the Northern Barrens of Kalimdor.”

“Demons and Devils, you say. Can they be killed?” His mind was trying mightily to put all this information into a context he could relate to. Nothing was equating.

“Of course; however, they are not very easy to kill,” Luxraina explained. “But the light always prevails.”

It was close to evening when they saw the smoke from the Horde encampment. A sentry challenged them then directed them to the northern most portion of the camp.

Lady Sylvanas sat on a white, skeletal, horned, dread horse. Her skin was as pale as any of the Forsaken around her, but she showed no sign of decomposition. Her eyes glowed with an eerie amber light. Bellon noted immediately her majestic bearing and power; the Force seemed to crackle around her. She was easily the equivalent of any Dark Council member. Behind her on a pike was the head for the former Warden Stillwater; quite dead and staying that way.

Bellon made a mental note of that and filed it with the toasted Murlocs.

Sylvanas was in the company of three, ethereal, winged females; Val’kyr, Luxraina explained. As they approached, blue lightning emanated from the winged beings into a small crater filled with bodies. Suddenly, the bodies were reanimated and new Forsaken stood staring at one another, bewildered.

“As you can see, Warchief, the Val’kyr are the answer to my problem of attrition.” Sylvanus announced in a voice that carried.

The huge orc she addressed growled, “What you have done goes against the laws of nature, Sylvanas; I will not condone it. All production of the plague must cease.” He turned to an orc beside him. “High Warlord Cromush, you will remain here and… ensure the Banshee Queen’s safety. Report to me regularly.” He turned and disappeared through a swirling mist.

Sylvanas attempted to placate Cromush. “The Forsaken cannot procreate. This is the only way to ensure my people’s continued existence.”

“You heard the Warchief,” Cromush countered. “You will cease production of the plague.”

Sylvanas glared, her eyes flaming. She suddenly turned on the four. “Who are you and what do you want?” she demanded.

Arbeth leapt off Black and bowed. “Ranger Arbeth Williams, My Lady; we were told you need assistance with some problem and have come to aid you.”

The rest dismounted as Sylvanas scanned the group. Her eyes fell uncomfortably long on Bellon. “I do not recognize you.”

Bellon copied Arbeth’s bow. “Billy DeKidt, only recently in My Lor… Lady’s service.” He noted that the Val’kyr were also assessing him. He decided they sensed his alien nature.

“I am Luxraina, Sunseeker Paladin of the Blackhoof Clan.” Luxraina bowed to the Forsaken Queen.

“Ah, I have heard of you. Your reputation precedes you paladin. And you, goblin mage?”

Torque bowed awkwardly. “Torque Sparkshiv, My Lady.”

“Speak to Grand Executor Mortus; he will help you find a place to camp. Stay close; I will have something for you in the morning,” Sylvanas instructed and turned her attention to the orc warlord.

They set up their small camp on the edge of the Forsaken army near cliffs upon which sat a decrepit castle. As the evening quiet fell across the encampment, unearthly and angry howls drifted on the wind up from the south.

In the distance, Bellon could see the outline of a massive wall. He started surreptitiously recording what he could see.

“Greymane Wall,” Arbeth explained. “After the Lich King came to power, King Archibald Greymane built the wall to protect his land. There were Gilneans in Pyrewood Village and farmers cut off on this side. They were part of the Fief under the Crowley family of Shadowfang Keep.” She pointed at the castle on the cliff. “Darius Crowley now leads the fight here to take back Gilneas even as his King, Genn Greymane, has abandoned his people a second time and lives in safe luxury in Stormwind as a guest of King Varian Wrynn.”

Luxraina spoke up. “Genn Greymane is now one of King Wrynn’s generals; he is amassing Alliance forces on the Broken Shores; apparently the Legion has landed there.”

“Wow, where did you two learn so much?” Torque asked.

“They keep their eyes and ears open,” Bellon suggested. “One would think with big ears and eyes such as yours, you would be more aware of things than you seem.”

“Oh, I notice more than I let on,” Torque retorted with a sly, sidelong glance at Bellon.

“I should be interested in learning about some of what you’ve noticed,” Bellon responded.

“Yeah, how about we take a walk later and discuss it,” Torque suggested, a little cockily.

“Sounds like a plan. I’m hungry; what do we have to eat?” Bellon asked.

“Cat steak, cat burgers, cat liver pate, cat rump roast, cat-tail soup,” Torque complained. “I suddenly miss Murlocs.”

“If you three can find something to mix with it, I can make a bear-meat stew,” Arbeth suggested. She turned to Luxraina. “Notice it is always you or I who does the cooking?”

Luxraina shrugged. “From what I’ve heard of goblin fare, I’m not so sure that is a bad thing. And somehow I doubt our ‘merchant’ friend has ever cooked for himself.”

Bellon snorted. “I can cook just fine. Tomorrow night I cook.”

Arbeth curled her lips. “We’ll see.” She headed back to the campsite to start the fire and prep the meat for the stew.

“So what are we looking for?” Bellon asked as the remaining three set off south.

“Tubers, leafy greens, berries, that sort of thing.” Luxraina pointed at the spires of a distant village. “There might be something still growing in the fields around Pyrewood.”

The fields proved fruitful enough for the four to have a good stew of bear meat, potatoes, kale, carrots, and peas.

After two helpings, Torque leaned back a let out a huge burp. “For a dead person, you’re a good cook, Arbeth.”

“In life, my parents owned the inn in… in Pyrewood.” She was quiet a moment. “My mother did all the cooking and she taught me. She wanted me to be a cook and take over the Inn from her and Da.” She shrugged. “I was too adventurous for that. I always could befriend animals and used to spend several days and nights in the wild country. An old ranger taught me how to shoot, track, skin, and make my own armor.

“When the Banshee Queen returned from Northrend having broken free of Arthas’ control, I was fighting with the Scarlet Crusade to defend what was left of Lordaeron. I used to be the company cook.” She shrugged. “I was killed in battle and woke up Forsaken.”

Luxraina leaned forward on her knees. “So, to whom does your ultimate loyalty lie?”

Arbeth met her gaze. “To my friends. I will do the Banshee Queen’s bidding but I have no love for her. She took my life and the lives of all those whom I loved; she turned me into this _faux_ existence. When I was human, the Alliance left our people to the ravages of the Lich King. Then King Greymane built that cursed wall cutting us off from our kinsmen. Ironically, that wall turned out to be their bane. The Horde has barely accepted the Forsaken as allies and treat us as pariah.”

“What’s a pariah?” Torque asked.

“What you’re saying borders on treason.” Luxraina ignored Torque’s question.

“What are they going to do? Kill me?” Arbeth chuckled bitterly. “I’m already dead. True death would be a welcomed relief.”

Bellon now realized how unhappy Arbeth was with her lot. “How is true death imposed? Apothecary Lydon told Stillwater that was his fate.”

Arbeth shrugged. “Don’t know; never seen it done.”

“How did you end up here, Luxraina?” Bellon asked.

The Tauren shrugged. “I wanted to see the world. I’ve seen Kalimdor, Northrend, Pandaria, even some of the Broken Isles. I caught a zeppelin to Tirisfal Glades and here I am. How about you, Torque?”

“I kinda got on Gallywixes bad side.” Torque scratched at his turquoise mohawk.

“Gallywix?” Bellon asked.

“Trade Prince Gallywix. It all started back in Kezan. First he blamed me for setting off the volcanic eruption of Mount Kajaro that Deathwing caused. Then he cheered me for helping to get most of us off the island. Then he blamed me for the ship being sunk by the Alliance. Then he cheered me for getting everyone safely ashore. Then… well you get the picture. Anyway, I was doing some jobs for Garrosh in Aszhara when I crossed Gallywix again. Told him he was a lily-livered bull’s pizzle. He didn’t like that. Sent his Death Squad after me. I caught the first zeppelin out of Orgrimmar. Gallywix is too cheap and lazy to send his Death Squad to the Eastern Kingdom. So tell us about your life, Billy?” Torque asked.

“I was an assassin; I am an assassin; I always will be an assassin. What more is there?” He fixed Torque with a glare. He didn’t break the eye contact until the goblin squirmed uncomfortably. “As an assassin, true death is something I should like to know how to do. What good is being an assassin if your target won’t stay dead?”

“Where do your loyalties lie,” Luxraina asked.

“Ultimately with me,” Bellon answered truthfully. “First of all, Trust No One. Second, I have a very strong sense of self-preservation.” He glanced at Torque and smiled, not charmingly. “That is not to say I will not defend and protect those with whom I have a sense of attachment. To whom are your loyalties bound, Luxraina?”

“First and foremost with The Light, then Baine Thundercaller, my Chief.”

Later that night when Bellon wandered away from the campsite to send his report, he was aware that Torque was following him. He stopped walking and looked up at the sky and heard Torque’s large feet slap the ground and rustle leaves as the goblin moved around to where he would be able to see what Bellon was doing.

“Has it ever occurred to you, that you can’t spy on a professional spy?” Bellon seemingly asked the sky. He waited but there was no response; he could hear Torque breathing. “As I said, my loyalty is to preserving my wellbeing. I could kill you where you stand without moving from this spot.” He turned and looked at Torque’s hiding place. “You wanted to talk; let’s talk.”

Torque stood and came from his hiding place among some rocks. “What gives? I noticed that Sylvanas and the Val’kyr took a special interest in you. I know that was no bug you were looking at back in the pass. Also, you don’t know enough about the Forsaken or Horde to be one of us. Who are you really? Who sent you?”

“I am exactly who I want to be,” Bellon answered smoothly. “Right now, I want to be Billy DeKidt, Forsaken merchant/assassin. Who do you want me to be?” He was fingering one of his knives.

Torque gulped. “Someone I can trust. Right now I’m wondering if I can trust you. I’m wondering if you’re a SI-7 undercover spy from Stormwind. I’m wondering if my life is in danger.”

“The answer to your first two concerns is no. The answer to your last concern is yes, and no one would ever find your body.”

“Please, Billy, who are you?” Torque was begging. “Please assure me you aren’t with the Alliance or the Burning Legion.”

Bellon’s smile this time was genuine. “I am not with any known enemy to the Horde. I should like to think I am with a potential ally.” He could hear Torque release tension. “You’re right; I’m not Forsaken. I look like Forsaken thanks to a… procedure. This allows me to move freely and gather information and intelligence to better inform my superiors.”

“What do they want?” Torque asked feeling a little braver.

“They want to know who on Azeroth might be a good ally in a war we are fighting.” Bellon looked up at the glowing, blue-green planet. It filled the night sky with eerie, iridescent light. “I am beginning to think you need us more than we need you.” He sat on a rock.

“Would they help us?” Torque asked eagerly climbing onto a rock opposite.

Bellon shrugged. “They might if they think the investment is worth the returns.”

“Goblins are born business men. We understand returns on investment like no one else. So are you going to kill me?” Torque indicated the vicious knife.

Bellon indicated Torque with its tip. “I am going to buy your silence, businessman. You keep your mouth shut and you live.” He saw Torque’s Adam’s apple bob.

“Sounds like a good return for my investment. I’ll leave you alone.” Torque stood and headed back to camp.

Bellon listened to ensure he had gone. Because of his big feet, Torque couldn’t sneak up on anyone if he tried; he might be able to use the Force to hide, but Bellon sensed Torque didn’t know how to do that. When he was convinced he was quite alone, he pulled out his recorder and transmitter.

Report 6: Day 14: Inexplicable Orb and Sylvanas Windrunner. As we have been traveling the past few days, nothing of note has occurred until this morning. You will notice in the attached video the large, multi-colored, planet that appeared in the sky above this world, Azeroth, sometime last night (Video 1).

He added 2VR8’s findings and Luxraina’s comment that it was associated with the Burning Legion and what he had learned about the Legion.

We met Sylvanas Windrunner, queen of the Forsaken (Video 2). The Force emanates off her like an electrical charge. I estimate that her power is comparable to a Sith Lord on the Dark Council. I watched her interaction with the Horde Warchief, Garrosh Hellscream. It is my opinion that she views him as her inferior and that she will supplant him at her first opportunity. In the meantime, she dissembles as the dutiful, subservient ally.

She was in the company of three creatures (also visible in the video) called Val’kyr. You will note their ability to raise the dead. As I said before, death is little more than a temporary inconvenience for these people.

I believe the Val’kyr and Sylvanas sensed that I am not what I appear to be and that she will in time question me personally.

Along that vein, the goblin Torque suspects my duplicity. I have bought his silence for the time being. Rest assured that if he becomes a threat to my mission, I shall silence him in such a way that death will be permanent.

Speaking of death, there is what the Forsaken call “true death.” I suspect it involves dismemberment of the body, most probably the removal of the head. As long as a body is mostly intact, the soul can be returned to it and so reanimate. Dismemberment would have to be accomplished quickly due to the short turn around between death and the return of the soul to the body.

Bellon sighed at another day accomplished and deeds done. A sudden thought occurred. He had told Torque that he would kill him if he spoke of Bellon’s duplicity and there was no doubt in his mind that he would. He was an assassin, a paid killer, a wonton murderer. Why would Loa want to be associated with the likes of him? She deserved better and, while he was gone, she’d realize it. A life with her had been a pipe dream and nothing more.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy learns that a Sith to negotiate a treaty is on the way. He makes a new tool for Luxraina and that along with his new rifle makes their dungeon crawl a huge success. Also, Billy decides that he better come clean with his travelling companions then tell Sylvanas the truth before she tries to make him come clean in a less than comfortable manner.

The entire Forsaken army was up and moving at first light. A sergeant in an Undercity tabard trotted into the campsite and told the four that the Banshee Queen wanted to speak with them; apparently, she had a job for them.

When Bellon dug into his haversack to set his recorder, he found that a message had been delivered to his transmitter. The Dark Council was sending a Lord Hypocritus to engage in any and all negotiations with Lady Windrunner.

“Oh, no,” Bellon groaned. Unfortunately, he had heard of Lord Hypocritus, an acolyte of one of Darth Vowrawn’s apprentices; what he knew was not wholly encouraging: arrogant, volatile, and easily distracted. In Bellon’s opinion, Hypocritus was not the sort of person who should be sent on a diplomatic mission.

Hypocritus would be landing in one and one-half week’s time at the site where Bellon had met Capt. Lakris. Bellon was to meet him and escort him to Sylvanas.

At least he had time to come up with a reason to leave the group and travel back to the Forsaken outpost in the Arathi Highlands.

“You don’t look well,” Torque noted.

“Just got some not-so-good news.” Bellon indicated Torque shut up as Arbeth wandered over.

“Let’s go, guys. The Banshee Queen doesn’t like being kept waiting,” she called.

They hurried back to Sylvanas’ headquarters. Their audience was brief and to the point. They had one day to prepare to go into Shadowfang Keep and bring her the heads of Lord Godfrey, Baron Ashbury, and Lord Walden, three former Gilneans. They would be handsomely paid for their efforts, in addition to whatever goods they found.

Bellon was perfectly happy to get away from the woman and her Val’kyr. He didn’t like the way they looked at him.

He looked up at the looming stone towers and walls. By the size, he estimated that it would take the better part of a day to go through it room by room to find their targets. He didn’t like the idea of being in an enclosed place with creatures reanimating all the time. If he had a vibroblade, he could easily decapitate their victims and destroy their heads; that would keep them from coming back to life.

He caught Torque’s collar. “We got some work to do. I’ll need more power cores, contacts, and one of those whirling thingamajigs. Get the stuff together; I’ll be there in a bit.” He veered off and headed for a goblin-run weapons kiosk.

He studied the swords that there laid out on a table. He picked up an iron gladius and gave it a couple of practice swings. This was longer than the knives he carried but shorter than the longsword Luxraina carried.

“Forty-five silver pieces, a bargain at that price,” the goblin suggested holding out his hand. “You can take my word on that.”

Bellon glared at him. “Trust no one. I’ll give you 30 silver pieces. It’s forging is inferior.” He pointed out a flaw. It didn’t need to be a fine blade, not with the upgrade he was thinking about.

“Ouch, bite my head off will ya. Okay 40 silver, no less. I’ve got mouths to feed,” the goblin countered.

Bellon snorted. “Your over-indulgence in procreation is not my concern. 30 silver not a copper more.”

“You drive a hard bargain. How about 35.”

Bellon studied him. “Done.” He plopped down the silver pieces and left.

“Why does an assassin such as yourself require a sword?” Luxraina asked, suspicion filling her tone.

“It’ll be for you, to ensure true death!” Bellon answered. “I refuse to go into that place,” he pointed at Shadowfang Keep, “and have the dead continually reanimating behind us. Chop off and destroy the heads and they’re dead forever.”

“Genius,” Torque cheered from amid his metals, gems, and tools. “Why didn’t we ever think of that?”

“Because you take the reanimation of your victims as a matter of course.” Bellon turned to the pile. “Now let’s get to work.”

He helped Torque make the items he required then affixed the silver contacts to the blade. “I need to be able to turn it on and off, I need a switch of some kind.”

“Know just the thing,” Torque pulled a trigger out of his stash.

Bellon put it together then held the blade out and turned it on. It buzzed and light shimmered around it.

“What’s it do?” Luxraina asked.

Bellon brought the blade down on a rock and sliced through it. “That.”

“Holy crap,” Arbeth stared wide eyed. “That would take the head off an iron Gollum.”

“You are full of surprises, Billy DeKidt,” Luxraina said eyeing him carefully. “You say you are an assassin, but you use a firearm and track like a ranger, and now wield a blade like a warrior. You are a paradox.”

“I use the tools I need to accomplish my work,” Bellon responded. “This will chop off the heads of everything we kill; then we will destroy those heads and won’t have critters that we killed reanimating to attack us from behind.” He handed the blade to Luxraina.

“You said you’d cook tonight,” Arbeth dragged the conversation back to the practical realm.

“I did, didn’t I.”

“How do we know you won’t poison us?” Torque asked.

“Because I do not want to go into that death trap alone,” Bellon picked up his rifle and headed out to gather the ingredients for his meal.

********

“I’m still alive,” Torque announced upon waking the next morning.

“And you’re still loud,” Bellon told him.

They ate the leftovers from the night’s meal of venison roulade and secured the campsite before departure.

They left their mounts at the campsite and walked south through the army. As they passed the sentries, they could see two pillars supporting a wrought iron gate. The gate was broken with one section partially off its hinges. In the center of each section was the head of a wolf bearing its teeth. On the right pillar was a shield with a wolf rampant and the words, “ _Non lupare ad iram dentibus lupi_ (do not anger the teeth of the wolf).”

It was a long, steep climb from the gates to the castle. There were two broken watchtowers flanking the drawbridge that crossed a gaping chasm; the bottom of the chasm was a swamp with spikes pointing up. The stone walls of the keep proper still looked strong enough to withstand an attack. The bridge had broken planks so they crossed carefully one at a time.

As he passed through the portcullis, Bellon could hear scrabbling on the floor of the parapet above him. Someone was about if not actively standing guard.

“This place reeks of undead.” Luxraina rubbed a distasteful smell from her nostrils. “I fear our targets have amassed a small army. Master Mage, if you are able to summon an elemental, now would be a good time.”

Bellon was surprised when after a few short words, a watery form materialized next to Torque. “Why didn’t you do that when we were fighting Yetimus?”

“I didn’t think we’d need it. When I did, it was too late; the bastard squashed me.” Torque pulled out a short stick and held it like a short sword.

“I hope you both have enough mana,” Arbeth indicated the paladin and mage.

“Yup, never without it,” Torque reported patting his haversack.

“The Light will provide,” Luxraina assured.

“And you, brother assassin?”

“Armed and dangerous. Enough power cores to take down the entire Forsaken army,” Bellon told her.

“Then let’s do this.” Torque strode toward the entrance into the great hall.

“Whoa there, Slick,” Bellon caught him by the collar of his robe. “Let the big boys go first.” He and Arbeth took point.

“So who are these guys we’re supposed to kill?” Bellon asked.

“Lords Godfrey and Walden, and Baron Ashbury were Gilnean aristocrats,” Arbeth began explaining. “From what I hear, they plotted against King Genn Greymane when they found out he was cursed. They died for their treachery. The Banshee Queen wanted them to work for her and reanimated their corpses; but they attempted to kill her as well. Upon being unsuccessful, they fled to Shadowfang Keep.”

“So we’re here to wreak her vengeance upon them,” Bellon said.

“I suppose so,” Arbeth answered.

He paused in front of the iron gate blocking them from the courtyard. “What can we expect to find? Any ideas?”

“A number of Forsaken followed them. I suspect they have created their own army,” Arbeth suggested.

“These will not be your run-of-the-mill undead,” Luxraina noted. “What we will face here will be the finest soldiers these renegade lords could muster, probably from the bodies of their own loyal guards.”

Bellon looked at the others. “I know you have good hearing, Torque, but you couldn’t move silently if you had air under those flapping feet of yours. I also have good hearing and can move silently. I’ll take point with Arbeth right behind me. Luxraina, you bring up the rear; keep Torque alive. When I give the signal,” he showed what he would do, “we all rush into a room in the direction I indicate and start attacking anything unfamiliar. Got it?”

They all nodded and arranged themselves as Bellon had suggested.

With very careful steps, he and Arbeth entered a room to the right of the sally port. The floor was strewn with straw and old tack hung off the wall; it used to be the stable for the mounts of guards on duty. A short set of stairs to a landing led to the entrance of the guard’s day room.

Bellon paused and listened to shuffling footfalls and a low voice. He estimated ten targets in the day room. He and Arbeth crept to the edge of the door and readied their weapons. When Torque and Luxraina were also on the landing, he gave the signal and spun crouching in the entry and fired an aimed shot at the apparent leader. Arbeth stood behind him and started shooting arrows. Torque was at his side firing off area frost attacks that slowed the enemy; his elemental and Dr. Nope charged in and began attacking indiscriminately.

Their sudden appearance caught the occupants of the room off guard; the enemy quickly fell.

“Lord Ashbury, how handy. That’s one down already.” Arbeth severed the head off the leader Bellon had felled with his first shot.

“We have announced our presence. I don’t think anyone else will be so easily surprised.” Bellon glanced into what seemed to be cells. There were four Forsaken in one and a Worgen in another.

Bellon took the opportunity to study his first live Worgen. The Worgen stared back with unabashed hatred; suddenly the Worgen gave a shocked looked at Arbeth behind Bellon.

“Arbeth, is that you?” he asked with a deep growling voice. “What have they done to you? It’s me, Trevor.”

Arbeth gasped and stepped away in horror. She shook her head and fought as tears tried to fall. “No, NO!” She fled the room.

“Who are you?” Luxraina asked the Worgen.

“I am her brother.”

Bellon sent Luxraina after Arbeth. He unlocked both of the doors. “I’ve no quarrel with you at this time, Mr. Williams. Please leave this place. Your destiny is sealed. Go someplace where you won’t end up on the opposite side of a battlefield from your sister.”

Trevor Williams towered over Bellon and looked down on him once he was out of the cell. “I was 8 when she left home and 15 when she died. We never knew what happened to her.”

“She thought her family was dead, turned into Forsaken like her.” Bellon jerked his head at the door they had come through. “Get out of here before I change my mind.”

Trevor dropped to all fours and bolted out the door.

“Shit,” Torque hissed. “Poor Arbeth. At least I know where my brothers and sisters are and that they’re well.”

It was a while before Luxraina returned holding Arbeth by the shoulders. She stared at the empty cell and open door.

“I told him to go far away,” Bellon told her.

She bit her lip and nodded.

“You old softy,” Torque poked Bellon in the leg.

“I’m definitely going to kill you; mind you I won’t give any warning other than that. Let’s make sure these things stay dead.” Bellon snapped.

He showed Luxraina how to use the improvised vibroblade to decapitate the bodies. Luxraina then incinerated the pile of heads with a blast of light.

Bellon led them back out to the landing and found the door that opened onto the courtyard.

They cleared the courtyard and the keep stables of the large, shambling creatures and undead, which were moving into the area from deeper inside the keep.

When the four were all that were left moving in the courtyard, Bellon knelt beside a pile of silvery bricks. He picked up one of the bars and studied it, Titanium. He started packing it into his backpack.

“Moonkissed iron,” Torque told him carrying a bar he had found. “Tons of it lying around like trash and Moonkissed wood. Can’t find anything better for making stuff.”

Bellon nodded. “I might have to rebuild my rifle; it’ll be more powerful and more accurate. The blade too.”

“More?” Torque asked surprised. “That I want to see.”

“We have to find the other two lords; let’s keep moving.” Bellon stood slinging into his backpack.

Arbeth pointed up some stairs. “Up and left is a room full of Godfrey’s followers.”

********

“Lord Walden, two down, one to go,” Arbeth picked up the severed head with a single hole between the eyes.

“Ah, hell, Billy, I feel cheated. You’re taking all the fun out of this,” Torque wailed upon seeing the second head.

“Fun, you think this is fun?” Bellon asked as he started collecting the severed heads of the other occupants of the room.

“Hell, yeah. We could be out there fighting the whole damned Worgen army; of course this is fun. But I was hoping to at least get one shot on these guys.” Torque was also gathering the heads into a pile for Luxraina to incinerate.

“I’ll leave Lord Godfrey to you,” Bellon offered magnanimously.

“Oh no you won’t!” Arbeth argued. “Take these guys down fast and quick; that’s the way I like it. Torque can fulfill his bloodlust killing everything else.”

“As you wish, dear lady,” Bellon bowed to her and lead the group out of the room deeper into the castle.

********

It was nearly sunset when they returned to Sylvanas and presented her the three heads.

“You have served me well,” she told them and instructed her quartermaster to give them each a gold piece and each an item of their choice from his supplies. The heads she mounted on pikes next Stillwater just outside her headquarters.

Luxraina picked out a magically imbued shield that would protect her from spells. Arbeth picked out a leather breastplate that couldn’t be pierced. Torque picked up a staff that would shoot fireballs. Bellon picked up a pair of knives that would never need sharpening.

That evening, they would go through the stash they had scavenged from the castle to decide what each would keep and what would be sold. One room they raided had been the pantry: meats, cheeses, fruits, drinks, breads, vegetables. They would eat well for quite some time.

Bellon found a quiet place away from the others to send his report, Report 7: Day 16: True Death Accomplished. He attached videos of the day’s events and explained about severing and destroying an adversary’s head as True Death.

Just as he hit send, the hackles on his neck stood on end. He froze turning all his senses to the world around him. Through some heavy brush, he caught the glimpse of a feint glow, a Val’kyr was watching him. Wordlessly, it turned and left.

“I need to talk to all of you,” he announced when he entered the campsite.

“Now? I need my beauty sleep,” Torque grumbled.

“Yes, now. Just now I was spied upon by one of the Val’kyr.” That statement grew mutters of concern from the other three.

“Why would Sylvanas spy on you?” Luxraina’s question was more rhetorical than quizzical.

“As you have guessed, I am not what I seem. I am not Forsaken, I never was a merchant, not here and not in my home. I was sent to gather information and report back to Imperial Intelligence everything I could about your world. The Dark Council is interested in an alliance.” He let that drop and waited for the questions.

“A degree of elaboration is required,” Luxraina suggested. “What is Imperial Intelligence, the Dark Council, and what are you?”

He pulled out his holorecorder and activated the holo Watcher Two had made of him before he left Dromund Kaas. “That is me; what I really look like. This form is the product of a device that temporarily modifies me to look like a chosen species.”

“Well, you sure as hell ain’t Alliance,” Torque noted.

“Except for the shade of your skin, you’re damn good looking,” Arbeth suggested.

“What’s wrong with the shade of my skin?” Bellon asked defensively.

“It’s blue,” Arbeth announced. “I’m not used to blue unless it’s on a Troll or Draenei.”

“Why are you here?” Luxraina dragged the conversation back on course.

“My name is Bellon’dfrey’theris and I am a major in Imperial Intelligence; the Empire is led by the Dark Council. The Dark Council is a group of Sith lords, magic users as you call them equivalent to Sylvanas Windrunner in power. I am an agent, a spy, specializing in undercover work.” Bellon went on to explain the war with the Galactic Republic and the need for allies in that war.

“You are telling us this because of the Val’kyr; you believe that Lady Windrunner knows you are not Forsaken.” Again Luxraina was to the point and practical.

Bellon nodded. He went on to explain the arrival of Lord Hypocritus in about one week’s time.

“Oh, man, I’ve got to meet this guy,” Torque sounded excited.

“No you don’t; from what I know of him, he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, especially for a diplomatic mission.”

“Then why are they sending him?” Arbeth asked.

Bellon shrugged. “Darth Vowrawn is the Dark Council member in charge of this project.” He shook his head. “I must suspect he either fell out of favor in my absence or is otherwise preoccupied. I would think if he couldn’t come, he would have sent a far more qualified negotiator.”

“He probably told someone to come here and that someone decided he couldn’t be bothered and sent one of his underlings,” Torque grimaced. “That’s the sort of nonsense Galywix would pull.”

“That is not a comforting thought though not outside the realm of possibility,” Bellon said.

Vowrawn had a reputation for thinking things through and acting cautiously yet decisively. If he couldn’t respond, he would delegate the task to someone he felt was qualified.

Luxraina laid her hand on Bellon’s shoulder. “We have fought side by side for some time now. I have trusted you to protect my life as I have protected yours. We will stand by you. When you are summoned to Lady Windrunner in the morning, we shall all go with you.”

“Now hold on…” Torque started then stopped under Luxraina’s quelling glare. “Yeah, okay, all of us.” He patted as far up Bellon’s back as he could reach. “We’re with you, buddy.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellon enters into combat against the Burning Legion and experiences the fleeting nature of death on Azeroth, and it was not pleasant. He also uses an opportunity in which he can demonstrate the power of the Force as it exists on Azeroth; he shoots Torque.

Bellon’s prediction was correct. The next morning, one of the Val’kyr arrived to tell Bellon that the Banshee Queen requested his presence. She tried to dissuade the other three from accompanying him, but they were adamant that short of death, they would be at his side.

It spoke of the Queen’s confidence that she didn’t require them to leave their weapons outside with the heads of the former Gilnean lords and Warden Stillwater.

Sylvanas didn’t seem surprised by all four arriving when she had asked for the one. “You know why I have called you here, Billy DeKidt. I know you are not Forsaken. I can speak into the mind of all my people; but your mind is closed to me”

Bellon cocked a smile. “That seems a little counterproductive to your claim of freewill; how much freewill can a person have if you can read their mind?”

“I use the talent to issue orders in the field, no more. So tell me who you are and speak carefully, because True Death awaits all of you if I detect a lie.”

Bellon went through the same _spiel_ he had given his comrades the night before to include the holo of him. “The Empire seeks an ally in our war but I have come to realize that your war with the Burning Legion needs to be resolved first.”

“A return on an investment,” Torque suggested.

“Shut up,” both Sylvanas and Bellon snapped at the same time.

“I really, really am going to kill you,” Bellon warned.

“I might accept such an alliance, if the weapons you carry are an indication of your people’s technology.” Sylvanas nodded at the sniper rifle slung over Bellon’s shoulder.

Bellon reached into his haversack and pulled out his blaster pistol. “Torque and I cobbled the rifle together from local materials. This is a Czerka MK-9 blaster, it is the sidearm issued to all Imperial military officers.” He laid it on a table. “It has a kill range of 350 meters and a stun range of 100 meters. It can fire over 3500 shots before it needs to be recharged.” He then moved his cuirass and shirt enough to show her the Transmutator embedded in his chest. “This takes sensor input from a holorecorder and creates a form that is compatible with my natural physiology; once so attached, it changes my form to allow me to move without notice among the species I am observing.” He showed her a holovideo of Dromund Kaas.

Sylvanas considered in silence what she had just been told and seen. “This Empire is made up of humans,” she almost spit the hateful word. “What makes you think we would embrace your Empire?”

“Ideology,” Bellon answered simply. “Both the Horde and the Empire want order and safety for our people. Besides, we are not all humans. I am Chiss. The Empire is made up of many races as is the Horde. Granted there are those humans who think they are better than the rest of us, but I ignore them.”

Sylvanas chuckled at that. “I would ignore them too. I suppose even they have their usefulness. So tell me about this Lord Hypocritus who is being sent here to treat with me.”

Bellon chewed his lip a moment wondering how much to share. He gave Sylvanas a sanitized version of his opinion of the Sith lord.

“Why have you chosen to speak with me and not Hellscream?” she asked.

“Simply it is that I am on this continent and so are you,” Bellon admitted. “Besides, when I witnessed your interaction with Hellscream when we first arrived, I realized you are the stronger personality than he. I have since seen that you are a strategist and carefully consider and plan your actions. He struck me as impetuous; that’s okay for a tactician but not a leader.”

“What you have reported does not displease me, Bellon’dfrey’theris. I shall allow you all to live, for now. In the meantime, I have another task that I believe is well suited to your collective talents. A cadre of Burning Legion has invaded Eversong Woods. I want you to join the Blood Elves currently holding them at bay and help them show these invaders that Azeroth is not theirs for the taking. Speak to Apothecary Lydon about a portal to Silvermoon City.” She smiled at Bellon. “I suspect you will finish this task in plenty of time to meet this diplomat your people are sending. As for me, I must join Archdruid Thrall and the Warchief Vol’jin at the Broken Shores. When you bring your diplomat before me, I shall be in Undercity; it is there that I shall meet you.”

With that dismissal, the four left and returned to pack up their campsite.

“I thought Garrosh Hellscream was Warchief,” Bellon said as they went in search of Lydon.

“Me too,” Arbeth said. “What did we miss?”

“Perhaps Apothecary Lydon can tell us,” Luxraina suggested.

Lydon was in too much of a hurry to answer their question; he had created a swirling mist and told them that it would deposit them outside of Silvermoon City and that Lor’themar Theron would meet them.

“Who?” Arbeth asked.

“Lor’themar Theron, the lord of the Blood Elves,” Lydon explained. “Yeah, I didn’t know who she was either; or maybe he, not certain.”

“I know a chap named Theron; he’s a Republic spy.”

“You think they’re related?” Torque asked.

Bellon snorted. “No! The Theron I know is a human; not a bad fellow for a Republic SIS agent.” He watched Arbeth on Black, followed by Dr. Nope, then Torque on his trike, ride confidently into the swirling mist and disappear, as Hellscream had done.

Luxraina leaned over from her Kodo and nudge him. “I am right behind you, Billy.”

Bellon took a deep breath and urged Spot forward. The horse without fear walked into the mist. There was a slight sense of disorientation accompanied by an irritating sting from the Transmutator, and Bellon emerged on a patch of tended lawn in front of a graceful, walled city.

The architecture was delicate and curving reflecting the natural flow of the land. Colors were vibrant and varied. Unlike in the land of the Forsaken, here birds were singing and the air smelled of blooming flowers.

A slight elf about Bellon’s height started walking toward them. The elf was wearing long, pale-colored robes and had humanoid complexion and features, except for long pointed ears and eyebrows.

“Is that a male or female?” he whispered to Torque.

“I can’t tell.” Torque shook his head. “Unless they’re dressed like Sylvanas, I can’t tell a male elf from a female elf.”

“Usually the females are showing at least some cleavage, and that gap around their midriff,” Bellon noted. “Why do the females have that gap in the armor like that? It leaves a huge hole in which to strike.”

“You can’t, trust me, I’ve tried,” Torque hissed back as the elf flowed gracefully toward them. “Hit them no; hit on them yes; hit by them definitely; hit them no.”

“Hush, you two,” Luxraina growled at them.

“What are they on about?” Arbeth asked.

“Sex,” Luxraina snarled, “as usual.”

“I haven’t talked about sex once,” Bellon countered hotly.

“Shut up,” Arbeth ordered.

“You must be the adventurers Lady Sylvanas said she would send. It’s good to know that in her heart she has not forgotten the people of her birth. Thank you for coming. I am Lor’themar Theron.” The voice was deep and as the elf closed on them, Bellon could see he had an Adam’s apple.

“It’s a guy elf,” Torque whispered. He glared when Arbeth tapped his head irately.

The four dismounted and greeted the lord of Silvermoon City.

He explained that the Burning Legion had landed on the coast; his sentries were holding them there but had sent word that they needed aid. He provided them a map showing where they were to go and told them to introduce themselves to Ranger Zhirena.

“If we move quickly, we could arrive before nightfall,” Arbeth noted looking at the map. “Let’s mount up.”

“Once more into the fray,” Torque chimed and hopped back onto his trike. It roared to life, rattling the tranquility of the countryside sending birds flying and squawking and causing Lor’themar to wince.

“You say that like it’s a good thing,” Bellon snarled swinging back up onto Spot.

“It’s our livelihood. Let’s go make some money. I hear the Burning Legion bastards have some pretty good loot on them.” Torque shifted into gear and took off headed west.

The other three urged their mounts into a canter and left the graceful, inviting city behind.

Bellon could smell sulfur before they could hear the sound of fighting and see the explosions from the battlefield. They stopped on a hillock overlooking the shoreline. There were no ships in which the Burning Legion would have arrived and there seemed to be no defined battle line.

Bellon studied the Burning Legion fighters. There were ten that stood nearly five meters tall and carried huge swords that with a single swipe could take out a full squad of Blood Elves; Luxraina said they were Doomguards. There were also probably 15 smaller demons that the Blood Elves could fight one-on-one; she said those were Felguards. They didn’t seem to have a leader but all knew their purpose; establish a beachhead onto which to bring additional forces.

The Blood Elves were holding the Burning Legion in place, not allowing them to advance enough to have the space to create a portal by which to bring in more troops.

“That must be Zhirena,” Arbeth pointed to a Blood Elf on another rise off to their left.

“They kill one and it respawns.” Bellon pointed as a fallen Doomguard seemed to pull its body back together and stand.

“Think your fancy blade can cut through one of their necks?” Torque asked.

“Let us hope so,” Luxraina urged her Kodo toward Zhirena.

They never got to speak to her. She saw them and frantically signaled that they attack.

Bellon found a good vantage point and took up his sniping position. He aimed and shot; the behemoth staggered but didn’t fall. It took Bellon four shots to its head before the Doomguard fell. He chambered another power core and took aim on another.

Suddenly, Torque was at his side. “Give me that fancy blade. I’ll get it to Lux; she can use it to chop off their heads. That’ll slow their respawning.”

Bellon saw Luxraina engaging one of the Doomguards and started shooting. That provided the break needed for Torque to get the vibroblade to her. She used it to slice the creature’s head off and then blasted the head with a hammer of light. By now, the first Doomguard Bellon had killed had risen to its feet to continue fighting.

Bellon started shooting at that Doomguard again. As soon as it fell, Luxraina severed and destroyed the head. Eight left to go.

Bellon had just shot at his fourth Doomguard. Suddenly, there was excruciating pain and he was floating in darkness. It was a very peculiar sensation, this nothingness. He was surprised that he still had a consciousness.

He didn’t know how long he was in that state before he felt like he had been hit by a percussion of air. He lay in the grass looking at the sky with his rifle in his hand. He saw Luxraina’s manual hoof reaching for him. When he reached to take her hoof, he realized he had reverted back to his normal self.

“Back to work; but keep moving. Don’t let them figure out where you’re shooting from,” the Tauren ordered and took off running into the battle again.

Bellon shook his head. Everything was where it had been; except the fried Transmutator was lying in the grass. He dropped that into his haversack and moved to a new location. He followed Luxraina through his scope and took aim on the Doomguard she was attacking. Once it was down, he moved again. Just in time as the Legion magic user had figured out his location. He wished he’d had the time to make a new rifle out of the metal he found in Shadowfang Keep; that would have made short work of these beasts.

“Lux needs power cores,” Torque yelled over the din after the fifth Doomguard had fallen.

Bellon was running to a new position and the goblin was struggling to keep up. Bellon fished a handful out from his haversack then bolted at a right angle to the direction he had been moving.

The blade went through one power core per use. Fortunately, he could get four shots out of a power core in the rifle before he had to chamber a new one. He and Torque had made almost 200 in the past couple of days.

It took about an hour to eliminate the 10 Doomguards and the magic user. The fight then turned to cleaning up the Felguards and Felhounds. The sun was just above the horizon when the battlefield fell silent.

“You should stay like that. It’s a good look for you,” Arbeth announced as the four came together again.

Bellon pulled the Transmutator out of his pocket and considered it. It was charred slag. “Well so much for putting it back on; that hurt like bloody hell, almost as bad as dying.”

“You did die,” Arbeth explained.

“Lux saw what happened and resurrected you. We needed you too soon to wait for the natural process,” Torque explained.

“Thank you, Luxraina,” Bellon told her.

“It is the duty of the paladin,” she explained simply after igniting a pile of small demon heads. “This is Ranger Zhirena.”

“Thank you adventurers for coming to our aid. We were beginning to run out of resources.” The ranger had a sing-song voice and delicate features. She was accompanied by a vibrantly colored flying creature that had the body of a flying bat, a wolf-shaped head, and lizard-like tail. This settled on the ground beside Dr. Nope and began preening itself.

The four introduced themselves. Zhirena stared at Bellon for a long time not sure what to say.

“I’m not of this world; I am Chiss,” he explained.

“Forgive my staring. I’m not used to seeing such a hue on any creature that is not a Troll or Draenei. Please join us. We are about to eat.” She started toward where her cadre had begun a fire.

“Thank the Light; I’m starved.” Torque’s stomach growled to confirm his words.

Zhirena’s laugh sounded like bells. “We too are starved. We have been unable to stop to eat for two days.”

Though the elves were exhausted, they were in a light-hearted mood. The victory had bolstered their spirits. No Burning Legion army would be entering Azeroth through Eversong Woods.

When it came time to create and send his report, Bellon set the holorecorder on a rock in the camp.

Report 8: Day 17: What the Hell Have You Gotten Me Into. I died today; a thoroughly unpleasant experience that shorted out the Transmutator. We are currently in an area called Eversong Woods with a group of Blood Elf rangers, all them female interestingly enough (see the accompanying video), who had been fighting a reconnaissance group of the Burning Legion. I have asked the Tauren Paladin to explain the process of death and her resurrection of me.

Luxraina looked uncertainly at Bellon then at the small recording device. At his encouragement, she began speaking.

I am Luxraina, Sunseeker Paladin of the Bloodhoof Clan. During the battle today, a Fel mage was able to locate and attack Billy with a Fel bomb. Death was instantaneous and most likely painless.

No, it was not, trust me; it hurt like hell.

I am speaking; allow me to finish. Apparently it hurt but it was quick without time to suffer. Since Billy was critical in our attack, I hastened to his lifeless body and performed a resurrection. By the virtue of divine light, I am able to heal the body and reunite it with the soul. Billy was then able to continue the fight. We were victorious and now we are relaxing and enjoying the spoils of war with Ranger Zhirena and her fighters. The Burning Legion was stopped at this place but I fear they will not accept defeat and are probably trying to invade Azeroth in other locations.

Okay that’s enough. As I said before, these people have an odd relationship with death. I am now without a disguise and all will see me for what I am. They seem to be very accepting of the fact that I am different; but then Azeroth is made up of many races.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy gets a better gun.

They took their time returning to Silvermoon City travelling with Zhirena and her rangers. They did a little hunting and fishing and mining along the way, and Bellon enjoyed the quietude of the countryside.

When they reached the city, Zhirena led them across a bridge and through a high arched entry way with a statue of a Blood Elf magic user raising its hand to cast a spell.

Bellon could hear the chime of bells before they entered the first courtyard of the city. Except for the pleasing chimes, it was very quiet, tidy, and clean. The inhabitants walked in small groups and spoke in hushed tones. Even the owners of the sparsely located kiosks hawked their wares in subdued tones. The roar of Torque’s trike obviously irritated their sensibilities as all stopped and stared with sour expressions.

Bellon noticed that along the broad, paved street were large, red, floating crystals; he saw brooms sweeping up leaves and dust without the benefit of a living operator. An elf zipped past sitting on a floating disk. He looked for the source of the chimes but couldn’t find it; the softly chiming bells seemed to be part of the ambiance. Off to the far left, he could see a wall-less tower that was nothing more than a frame with pads; there were no stairs between the pads. People would disappear off one pad and appear on another; the pads had what looked like library shelves.

He could feel the Force coursing through the city and realized that the Blood Elves used it rather than technology to meet their needs. He took as much video as he dared of the anomalies he was witnessing. He would include it in his report that evening.

The city was broken up in sections, all open courtyards of impeccably tended lawn and broad streets with the businesses and residences around the outside. No building had doors or glass; at one point they rode through what Zhirena said was an excellent inn, to reach another district. As the trike and three beasts passed over an elegantly-designed and richly-colored rug, no one seemed to notice or care.

After her group of rangers split off and headed to another part of the city, Zhirena announced they were in the government district and pointed to wide, winding stairs leading to a portico with guards in orange tabards on either side. She explained they were going to see the Lord of the Blood Elves.

“That Lorsomore fellow?” Arbeth asked.

“Theron,” Bellon prompted.

Zhirena hesitated, “Yes, him, Regent Lord Lor… Lord Theron.”

They left their mounts at the foot of the stairs and ascended to the portico. The guards made no effort to challenge the five armed visitors. Lor’themar Theron was standing on a dais in the center of the hall they entered.

“Ah, the conquering heroes return,” he greeted and rushed forward to shake their hands. He paused uncertainly when he saw Bellon. “Who are you?”

“Bellon’dfrey’theris, Lord Theron, we met yesterday morning upon our arrival from Silverpine Forest,” Bellon reminded him.

Theron frowned. “There were two Forsaken but not you; I would have remembered you.”

“Oh, no, he was with us,” Torque cheerfully informed the Elf Lord. “Arbeth is the only Forsaken in our little band.”

“No, no, I distinctly remember two Forsaken, Lady Arbeth and another ranger.”

“Only one ranger travels with us,” Luxraina corrected him. “Bellon’dfrey’theris is an assassin and has been with us for many weeks now.”

Theron was beginning to look frantic. He shook his head. “There were two Forsaken; am I not correct Ranger Zhirena?”

“I am sorry, my lord, I have seen no Forsaken with this group other than Ranger Arbeth,” Zhirena didn’t know what the fuss was about. When she finally got to talk to the group after the battle, she met Bellon, the strikingly blue humanoid male.

Theron rubbed his face and looked about for someone to corroborate his story. Arbeth just shrugged. None of his advisors had been with him when he first met the group. “Oh, dear me. Well, um, be that as it may.” He gave them a happy grin. “You have stopped the Burning Legion from desecrating our lands and for that we the people of Silvermoon are forever grateful. As a reward you may avail yourselves of all that this city and its merchants have to offer for free; that includes free room and board at the Shining Star Inn. I hope you will stay for a little while; I might have another job for you.” He presented each with a token then hooked Ranger Zhirena’s arm in his, “You will brief my advisors and myself on the battle.” He led her off.

Once outside, Torque couldn’t suppress his laughter. Soon all four were laughing at the joke played upon the hapless Elf Lord.

“I didn’t know a paladin could lie,” he told Luxraina.

“I did not lie: only one ranger travels with us and Bellon has been our companion all along,” Luxraina headed off. “I must see to the repairs of my armor and visit the Temple of Light.”

“I shall visit the Ranger Enclave; perhaps I can get superb armor and arrows due to Whathisname’s largess.” Arbeth headed in a different direction.

“I’m gonna visit the mage tower. No telling what goodies I can get from them. What you gonna do, Billy?”

“I am going to sight see. Meet you back at the Shining Star this evening.” Leading Spot, Bellon began to drift off in a non-descript direction as Torque hopped on his trike and roared off.

There was a city guard standing at attention near the gateway to another section of the city. “I don’t know my way around,” he started.

“Let me give you a map of the city,” the helpful guard handed a parchment to Bellon. Upon request, he marked the location of the Shining Star Inn, the stable nearest it, and the engineering quarter.

After Bellon checked Spot into the stable and himself into the inn, he set off walking through the peaceful, clean city for the engineering guild quarter. He visited several shops before he found the one with the most precise instruments. He presented the token to the Master Engineer in charge.

“What might we make for you?” the master asked.

“Actually nothing; what I should like is private use of your shop for a time and some of your stock to make myself a new weapon. I understand this token indicates the city government will fully reimburse you for the inconvenience and stock,” Bellon told him.

The master engineer nervously rubbed the back of his neck and looked at his two apprentices. “Uh, how long will you need the shop?” he asked cautiously.

Bellon did a quick calculation. “Once I have everything I need, no more than 24 hours. I can work through the night so you lose no more than one day of being open for business.”

“When do you want to start work?” The master seemed a little less concerned but was still cautious.

Bellon smiled charmingly. “I have at least a day’s worth of preparation to do and must be finished no later than four days from now. If you have orders to fill, that should give you time.”

The Master Engineer took a satisfied breath. Bellon could have the shop to himself starting after close of business two days from now.

Back in his room at the Shining Star, Bellon used his holoterminal to call up the schematics for a pulse blaster and saved them to the terminal. He had the Titanium, to make a lighter more durable outer barrel. He would confiscate the gold for a resonance chamber. He would confiscate the cobalt necessary to make more durable power cores. The shop had a lot of the instruments he would need but he would need a null environment in which to work the cobalt; that was on his ship, as well as Twovee’s exceptionally precise visual receptors and calibrating skills.

He went to the stable, mounted Spot and rode out of the city looking for a secluded area in which 2VR8 could land the X70-Phantom. He chose the coastal mountains northeast of Silvermoon City.

He contacted 2VR8 and told the droid what he needed and asked the droid to also bring the mini astromech droid. The little droid was little more than a toy but still had all the capabilities of its full-sized cousin. 2VR8 was programmed for repair of all the ship’s functions so should be able to do the work Bellon required; the tiny droid would be a backup. He instructed 2VR8 to land in 32 standard hours, that would put it in the dark of night, and to stay with the ship and keep it cloaked until Bellon arrived to escort him into the city.

He returned to the inn as evening was setting in; as dusk grew darker, the floating red crystals began to glow, bathing the streets in a pinkish light. He found his comrades in the tavern room of the inn. He ordered himself an ale and diverted their questions as to where he had been.

The next day, he went to the Mining Guild to requisition the metals he would need. He got cut rubies, emeralds, and sapphires from the Jewelcrafters Guild; that took some time as he had to explain how to cut them, which was in a manner contrary to a jeweler’s normal use. They were quite surprised at his apparent knowledge of gem cutting, unusual for an engineer in Azeroth. He had tailors make him some special gloves, which he had enchanters enchant for handling radioactive material. He picked up very soft chamois leather for a barrel grip and shoulder strap. He got a second backpack and stashed all these items in it.

Over dinner, the others were dressed in their new finery and chatting happily about the goodies they had been obtaining at the expense of the Silvermoon City municipal coffers. He graciously refused to tell them what he had been using his token for beyond “a surprise.” He did get permission from Arbeth to borrow Black for a day before everyone turned in.

That night, at the time he told Twovee to land, he was on the inn’s roof. He saw the telltale streak of light as the ship entered the atmosphere. He saw the light stop, hover, then slip to the ground behind some small mountains. Satisfied, he went to bed.

When he woke the next morning, the others had already taken off to further milk the naïve Lord of the Elves for all he was worth. Bellon ate a hearty breakfast, got a meal-to-go, and gathered both Spot and Black from the stable. He headed into the Eversong Woods countryside.

As he approached the apparently empty clearing where he told 2VR8 to land, he signaled his arrival. There was a hum, the view shimmered, and the sleek, silver X70-Phantom appeared. The passenger hatch opened and 2VR8 stood in the doorway with the little astromech droid at its side.

“Welcome back good, kind, master,” the ever-nervous droid greeted. “Per your orders, we are prepared to abandon ship.”

“You aren’t abandoning ship, Twovee; just leaving it for a few hours. When we’re done, you will take it back into orbit. Do you have the workbench I asked for?” Bellon ground tied the two horses and headed up the ramp.

“I have done as you ordered, master; may I be so bold to say it will be difficult to transport the bench.” 2VR8 lead the way to the ship’s workshop.

Bellon passed him in the doorway and unslung his back pack as he approached the bench. “A trick I’ve learned in this funny world.” He proceeded to insert the 8-foot by 4-foot by 3-foot workstation into the 2X2X2 back pack, along with all the other materials he would use; he then pulled out a long robe with a hood. He grinned at 2VR8. “Let’s go.” He scooped up the little droid and shoved that into the bag as well.

“I must admit my confusion as to how you accomplished that, most clever master.” 2VR8 studied the robe Bellon handed him.

“That’s your disguise,” Bellon explained. He helped the droid cover itself in the robe with the deep hood hiding its face and head. Before leaving, he set the cloaking protocol. Once he was off the ship with the hatch closed, the ship was again invisible.

“Master, when did that arrive?” 2VR8 pointed at the swirling toxic atmosphere of the planet hanging over Azeroth.

“That, Twovee, is the thing you can’t see from space and doesn’t show up on ship’s scanners. Up you go,” he told 2VR8 and helped the droid up onto Black.

The horse gave Bellon a snort and twitched his tail.

“Sir,…”

“I’ll lead you.” He took Black’s rein and hopped onto Spot. They set off at a walk back to the city.

He checked the horses back into the stable then headed for the engineering shop. They arrived as the master and his apprentices were closing up for the night.

“It’s all yours,” the master told Bellon. “We have cleaned the shop for you and will return this time tomorrow. We expect to find it in the same condition we leave it.”

“You are most gracious and generous,” Bellon bowed, accepted the key, and went in. He locked the door behind him then began emptying the contents of his back pack.

“If I may be so bold to ask, Master; what are you planning?”

“I am going to make a pulse blaster sniper rifle and I don’t want anyone getting their hands on the schematics.” He called up the holo of the schematics and began laying out the instruments he would need.

“You need me to precisely calibrate the focal lens,” 2VR8 realized.

“I think I can do the calibration myself. More importantly I need you to work the titanium barrel and cobalt power cores.”

“Very wise, Master; your physiology does not react well to radiation. And the astromech?”

“If you don’t know how or can’t do something, it can.”

********

2VR8 was diligently sweeping the shop floor when the Engineer Master and his apprentices returned the following evening. When he knocked on the door, Bellon had all the equipment he had brought tucked back into his bag and the new rifle slung over his shoulder. He quickly draped 2VR8 in the robe and opened the door.

The master critically studied the impeccably clean facility. When his eyes landed on the new rifle, his jaw dropped. He started to speak.

“Thank you for the use of your shop. I hope I have not inconvenienced you too much. If you wish, we can inventory your equipment together.” Bellon indicated all the tools and instruments clean and back in their assigned places.

He stood at the Master Engineer’s side as the man went over every item he knew should be in his shop. His apprentices stood silently by the door waiting for his orders. “Everything is as it should be,” he finally announced.

“This facility is cleaned to the best of my ability, master,” 2VR8 announced setting the broom and dustpan in their places. “Your shop was quite sufficient if a little primitive.” 2VR8 passed the apprentices and exited.

“Then by your leave, we depart. Again thank you.” Bellon followed 2VR8 out the door. “You know your way back to the ship?”

“Indubitably, master,” 2VR8 assured.

Bellon handed the droid the backpack. “Take these and put them in the safe once you’ve reestablished orbit.”

“Yes master.” 2VR8 slung the backpack over its shoulder and headed out of the city. Bellon watched for a while to ensure no one interfered even as he switched on the droid’s tracker. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust 2VR8 to return to the spaceship, but it would indicate if something untoward happened to the droid in route.

“Where the hell have you…” Torque stared at the new rifle Bellon carried. “Well, well, what have we here?”

“This is a DeKidt Mark-1 Pulse-energy sniper rifle,” Bellon lay it on the table where the others could see it. “It has a kill-range of one and one-half to two kilometers. It has the power to punch through the armor of one of those dwarf-gnome tanks and the thick skull of a Doomguard. If anyone touches it, Torque, I will kill him.”

“You keep saying that,” the goblin’s hand crept toward the rifle. Suddenly, one of Bellon’s poisoned daggers slammed into the table between two fingers.

“I will kill you, wait until you respawn, then kill you again for every time I have previously said it and put it off for a more convenient time.” Bellon’s hand was on his other dagger.

Torque withdrew his hand being careful not to touch the blade. “I get your point.” He leaned back in his seat. “So how many power cores will this go through?”

“None.” Bellon pulled the dagger out of the table and replaced it in its sheath. He sat down. “So we’ve been in this little Utopian garden for four days; does Theron have a job for us or not?”

“Arbeth and Lux have gone to ask him just that. If he doesn’t, Arbeth wants to return to Lady Sylvanas. Heh, want to see what I made myself?” Torque leaned back and grabbed his mage staff. It was encased in copper wire and silver contacts. “I got the idea from the sword you made Lux. It’ll cut through stone. I won’t be defenseless.”

Bellon studied the work. It was crude and clunky but he could tell it would work. He used a fork to slightly adjust a couple of contacts. “Nice work. That was pretty clever of you.”

“What’d you do?” Torque took back his staff and studied the small adjustment Bellon had made.

“Fixed it so it won’t blow up in your face.” Bellon took a gulp of the ale. The brew on Azeroth had a different flavor from what he was used to, but he was beginning to prefer it.

“So, don’t you have to meet that lord in a couple of days?” Torque took a gulp of his ale.

Bellon did a quick calculation. “I still have three days before he’s due to arrive. I figured, if Theron doesn’t have a job for us, I’d fly to the outpost in the Arathi Highlands tomorrow and wait for him, just in case he arrives early.”

Arbeth reported that there was a job for them, go into “The Scar” and kill zombies and skeletons.

“Oh, boy, we’ll get to see Bellon’s new rifle in action,” Torque indicated the sleek, light weapon.

Report 9: Day 21: Blood Elves and Technology, was rather droll and dry but the information was invaluable to the intelligence analysts back at The Citadel. Bellon didn’t mention making the pulse blaster but spoke of the level of technology and how it was augmented by the Force.

Report 10: Day 22: YUCK‼‼‼‼‼ described the day spent killing zombies and skeletons and two, monstrous organic droids, Knucklerot and Luzran. Even with the new rifle, the things tended to explode upon death, showering the area around them in putrid guts, blood, flesh, and gore.

He had been thoroughly satisfied with the accuracy and kill power of his new rifle. He used the new rifle just against Knucklerot and Luzran; he used his laser rifle against the zombies and skeletons.

Torque plopped down beside Bellon. “I like the DeKidt Mark-1 Fart Rifle of Death.”

“What did you call it?” Bellon was cleaning his weapons.

“A Fart Rifle. Pffffffft. Sounds like a fart.”

“I am going to kill you several times, slo-o-o-owly.”

“I meant it as a good thing.” Bellon raised his hands defensively. “It’s silent but deadly.”

“I have to agree with Toque,” Arbeth said. “It does sound like a fart, a refined lady’s fart.”

“I am going to kill both of you.”

“I’m already dead,” Arbeth grinned and sauntered off.

Bellon sent his report, packed his gear, and headed for the flight point.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The treaty negotiator sent by Darth Vowrawn arrives; it doesn't go well. Billy has a revelation and quits Imperial Intelligence. How will his superiors react to that?

Bellon flew through the night, changing bats at Undercity and Tarren Mills. He landed at the Arathi Outpost at mid-morning. He would meet the other three back at Undercity when he brought Lord Hypocritus to meet with Lady Sylvanas.

He had received a number of odd looks from the bat handlers, but they didn’t ask questions when shown the transfer token. One of the Deathguards approached him as he dismounted at the outpost

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” the forsaken soldier challenged.

“I am Bellon’dfrey’theris, liaison to the Banshee Queen, Sylvanas Windrunner. I will be meeting a diplomat from off Azeroth to escort him to the queen to negotiate a treaty. Any more questions?”

The soldier shook his head. “We have received news of this from the Dark Lady.” He walked away.

“So-o, de lady of de dead would make a treaty wi’out Vol’jin.” The deep, sing-song voice belonged to a towering, lavender-skinned Troll in dark robes. He had a shock of orange hair sticking out from under a broad-brimmed fedora. “She be mighty arrogant, I’m t’inking. Maybe she be t’inking of overt’rowing Vol’jin to become de Warchief of de Horde herself.” The troll leaned on an intricately inscribed staff, which was as tall as he.

Bellon eyed the Troll suspiciously but said nothing. He adjusted his backpack and his laser sniper rifle, his pulse blaster was in the backpack, and headed east to the landing point.

It was shortly after noon when Bellon arrived at the area where he had landed over three weeks earlier. He sent out Report 11: Day 23: In Position to Greet Lord Hypocritus; he then sat in the shade of a pile of rocks and ate. Once he felt full and rested, he set up his camp and got comfortable. He didn’t expect the Sith lord to arrive for another two days, but he wanted to ensure he was here when he landed.

********

The whine of an Imperial Shuttle’s engines caught his attention the second morning after he had set up camp. The Sith lord was arriving right on schedule. That bode well. He quickly packed up his campsite.

A streak of fire in the sky turned into an Imperial Transport Shuttle. It slowed, spun on its axis, extended its landing struts, and settled gently to the ground while folding its wings.

Bellon was still dressed in his armor and local clothing, but he neatened it all up as much as possible and stood at attention 20 feet from where the end of the shuttle ramp would be.

The flight crew hurried off standing at attention on either side of the ramp. At a barked order from the pilot, they saluted and the Sith exited the ship.

The man who stepped off was about Bellon’s height and build. He wore the red and black robes of an Inquisitor. His lightsaber hung conspicuously at his side.

Bellon bowed. “My lord, welcome to Azeroth. I am Cipher Nine, your liaison.”

“A Chiss? And what the hell are you wearing?” Hypocritus snarled and wrinkled his nose. “When was the last time you bathed.”

“Yes; mail armor; three nights ago. I have been camping here awaiting your arrival to greet you properly,” Bellon smiled his most disarming while suppressing his irritation.

Hypocritus snorted looking around. “Where is this quee-een I am to meet?”

“She is currently leading her army in an on-going war on another continent.”

“Well then bring her to me,” Hypocritus ordered.

Bellon took a deep breath. “I am to bring you to her. As I said, she is involved in a battle to secure this planet.”

Hypocritus groaned and waved his hand dismissively. “Very well, where is your speeder?”

Bellon was struggling not to grind his teeth. “I do not have one available on this world. It was Darth Vowrawn’s wish that our technology be kept secret as long as possible. That would include your shuttle returning to space to await your further orders.” He noticed that as soon as he greeted Hyprocitus, the flight crew quickly reboarded, and the shuttle was preparing to launch.

“Show me these orders,” the Sith demanded.

Bellon shrugged, pulled out his holo, and played a recording of Darth Vowrawn giving orders, to include keeping all Imperial technology under wraps until the negotiations were complete. The Sith Lord finished with the admonition that any ship, used to arrive at Azeroth, not remain planetside.

Bellon had fudged that order a little in showing Sylvanas his Czerka blaster and having 2VR8 land and help him in Silvermoon; but he wasn’t going to tell this pompous ass that.

Hypocritus groaned, “So, how are we going to reach this woman?” he asked.

“Well, we have to walk to a nearby outpost…”

“Walk?” Hypocritus roared drowning out the shuttle’s engines.

“Unfortunately, my lord, yes. It is about two hours west. The terrain is fairly level and the wildlife not too belligerent. It is a cool and dry day; it should not be too unpleasant a walk.” Bellon smiled cheerfully. “Once there, we can fly to Lady Windrunner’s city,” Bellon explained.

“Get on with it,” Hypocritus waved his hand. He fell into step beside Bellon.

Bellon shouldered his backpack and his rifle and set off back the way he had come. He was prepared to brief Hypocritus along the way, but the Sith lord chose to walk in silence. It took more than two hours since, despite his lean figure, Hypocritus was apparently in poor physical shape and had to stop frequently to drink some water and rest. They arrived at the outpost about the time the residents were cooking their evening meals.

Hypocritus stopped at the edge of the outpost and looked at those gathered around the various cooking fires. “What in the name of the Dark Council are these creatures?”

“That group over there are Forsaken Deathguards in service to Lady Windrunner; that big fleshy thing too. Those are Dark Rangers, Lady Windrunner’s elite forces. That chap over there is a Troll.”

“Are there no humans?” Hypocritus demanded. His voice was drawing the attention of the outpost residents.

“Humans fight with the Alliance and are the enemy of these members of the Horde. You did read the briefs Keeper certainly provided.” Bellon was now grinding his teeth.

“Don’t get impudent with me, agent,” Hypocritus warned. “I had more important things to do and expected you to brief me.”

“Very well,” Bellon standing at the edge of the outpost as the sun set in the west verbally briefed the Sith on the Horde, the races it was made up of, their connection with the Force, how the Force permeated every aspect of their lives, and the looming threat of the Burning Legion. He pointed at the swirling green planet glowing in the sky.

“You t’ink dis one can negotiate wit’ de Dark Lady?” It was the Troll. “He know no’ting of de Horde or dis world or de people. Vol’jin would eat him alive.”

Bellon’s hackles rose in warning and he surreptitiously backed away from the two. A fight on the plains of the Arathi Highlands between a member of the Horde and the supposed diplomat sent to broker a treaty did not bode well.

“Silence, you worm; you are speaking to a Lord of the Sith,” Hypocritus squared his shoulders and glared up at the towering troll.

“And you are speaking wit’ Demonslayer Zar Ma’zhin.” A sudden burst of Fel power flew from the warlock’s fingers throwing Hypocritus back off the rise on which the outpost sat.

Everyone, including Bellon, began scattering clear of the two. They grabbed up their plates and retreated to the north side of the outpost. The bat handler released his charges, shooing them off so they would not be injured.

Hypocritus regained his feet and shot out with a blast of lightning. Zar staggered and fell.

Hypocritus cheered. “That is how a Sith fights.”

“You aren’t finished yet,” Bellon called.

“He’s dead.” Hyprocitus pointed victoriously at the body.

“If you had read the reports, you’d have learned… Never mind, you’re about to find out.”

Zar’s body stood up, roared, and transformed into a towering red skinned demon with wings and giant sword. He swung at Hypocritus catching the Sith in the side; the swing threw the body about 50 yards. Zar, as the demon, laughed and waited.

In the lull, the outpost cleared the battle area further; merchants quickly packed up their kiosks; Dark Rangers and soldiers removed their tents and weapons racks; the abomination lumbered away to lean against Thoradin’s Wall. They all then settled down to watch the two fight, as if it were some sporting event.

Zar waited while Hypocritus stood up and shook off having just died. “What was that?”

“You died. Welcome to Azeroth,” Bellon called from where he sat with several Dark Rangers and two Deathguards. They chuckled. He accepted a chunk of meat from Alina, the outpost leader of the Dark Rangers.

“How, dare you!” Hypocritus directed his ire back at Zar and threw his lightsaber. Zar ducked, and it harmlessly returned to its owner.

“Is dat all you can t’row at me, off worlder?” He produced a massive fireball and threw it at Hypocritus.

Hypocritus was able to dodge it but not the flames that erupted from the ground around him.

The only sound was the peepers announcing the coming of night as Zar once again waited for Hypocritus to reanimate.

Upon reanimation, Hypocritus immediately charged using the Force to augment his speed and ran Zar through with his lightsaber.

“Ah-ha, dead again,” Hypocritus cheered.

“For now,” Dark Ranger Alina called with a laugh.

Sure enough, Zar came back to life and responded to the indignity of dying by showering Hypocritus with fiery missiles. Hypocritus’ lightsaber moved blindingly fast knocking the missiles aside, except one; it pierced his heart.

“Why don’t you just end this?” Bellon called to Zar.

Zar laughed. “Dis be too much fun. I’ve not fought like dis since de Broken Isles. Besides, I want to teach dis fool a lesson. Argh!” he fell to the ground having been struck again by Force lightning.

Zar was barely back on his feet when he summoned an Infernal. The giant, fiery demon fell on Hypocritus, but before Zar could control it, it attacked the spectators.

Bellon felt a flash of excruciating pain and found himself floating in the black nothingness. “Damn” he thought. Luxraina wasn’t around to resurrect him so he didn’t know what to expect. Time meant nothing in this state, but he found he was vaguely aware of what was going on in the physical world; Zar Ma’zhin was laughing. Suddenly he felt a pull; he stood before a brightly glowing, winged creature similar to the Val’kyr. Also, in front of this figure were Hypocritus, the two Dark Rangers and Deathguards he had been sitting with. Hypocritus immediately winked out. The winged creature’s voice was inside his head and asked what he wanted. To get back to his body, was his reaction.

He was lying on the rock he had been sitting on; the others with him were also sitting up. He pushed himself up and found himself echoing Torque, “I hate it when that happens.” A sudden thought occurred to him. He remembered back to his Imperial Academy days; it had been a joke among the cadets. “Imperial Military Regulation 479, Section 10, Paragraph A.1, a soldier’s oath of service is nullified only by death.” He pulled his holo out of his haversack and found the regulation file. Sure enough, death nullified his oath of service. He began laughing.

“Fuck you, Hypocritus,” he yelled when the Sith next regenerated. The Sith didn’t have time to punish Bellon as Zar’s Infernal, now well under control, was attacking him again.

Bellon stood up and turned to Alina. “I’m going to report this turn of events to the Banshee Queen; please inform her should these two decide to call it quits.”

The blood elf nodded. “I shall keep score,” she cocked and sly grin and went back to watching the spectacle.

Bellon found the bat handler, who was able to call one of his bats that hadn’t flown far. Bellon paid him for the flight to Undercity and left filming the fight as the bat lifted off and circled before heading east.

Report 12: Day 25/26: Who’s Idea Was It To Send Hypocritus and I Quit. As shown in the accompanying video, Lord Hypocritus and a Troll Warlock (type of Force user) by the name of Zar Ma’zhin are preoccupied with trying to kill each other in a world where death is not permanent. I am proceeding back to Lady Sylvanas Windrunner to inform her of this predicament.

Leading to my second point. Death nullifies my oath of service. I have now died twice, here on Azeroth and so as stated in Regulation 479 §10-A.1 I am no longer a member of the Imperial military. This is to inform you that my status on this job from this point on is as a private contractor.

Upon my return to Dromund Kaas, I expect to have my death certificate confirming my civilian status waiting for me. My fee as a private contractor is the same as the pay I was receiving as a cipher agent, rank major with Imperial Intelligence.

It is my professional recommendation that Darth Vowrawn, if he is unable to handle treaty negotiations himself, send a more sensible and dedicated member of his staff to complete those negotiations. I shall await your 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady Sylvanas Windrunner isn't know for having a compassionate or patient nature. Billy has to explain to her why the ambassador isn't there. At least Sylvanas has a better understanding of the situation than Keeper and can support Billy's story. News also arrives that Sylvanas is now Warchief of the Horde and our stalwart band of heroes is sent to Dalaran as volunteers to fight the Burning Legion.

He landed in Undercity in high spirits; there was something about tendering his resignation from the Imperial Intelligence that was invigorating. He didn’t expect Keeper to accept his word for it, but it felt good just the same.

He hadn’t explored the city last time through so this time he wandered around a bit asking if anyone had seen Arbeth. He was directed to an inn on the upper level.

“Heh, Billy, so where’s this diplomat? Drop him off with Sylvanas already?” Torque asked as Bellon walked in.

“Nope,” he actually patted Dr. Nope. “The jackass got into an altercation with a Troll warlock, Zar Ma’zhin, and…”

Luxraina groaned and rolled her eyes. “He is a very powerful magic user, Ma’zhin; he could have been a great mage if he had not followed the demonic route and would just keep his mind on business. I take it Ma’zhin and your diplomat did not see eye to eye about something?”

“Correct, they were still flinging spells and alternately killing one another when I left. I wanted to find you before I went to Sylvanas.”

“That is sweet of you,” Arbeth told him.

“Is she here?” he asked. “She had that business at the Broken Isles to take care of.”

“Sylvanas is here and I’m sure the Dark Lady is awaiting your arrival with impatience and she doesn’t do impatient very nicely. For that matter, she doesn’t take bad news well either.” Arbeth told him how to find Sylvanas’ throne room.

“Anyone know what happened there?” He dropped his gear. When everyone shrugged and shook their heads, he hurried to the Banshee Queen’s throne room. He presented himself with a bow and apologies then explained what had happened.

“Ma’zhin, you say.” Sylvanas shook her head. “That Troll’s an idiot, arrogant, and belligerent.”

“Unfortunately, my lady, so is Lord Hypocritus. I have sent a message to my superiors explaining this turn of events and insisted they send someone more responsible. I have not yet received a satisfactory answer as to why Darth Vowrawn himself did not come; that had seemed to be his intent.”

“How long before you hear from your superiors on the matter?” she asked all business.

“Now at the earliest.” He held up his finger and pulled out his holoterminal.

“Cipher Nine, this is Keeper. I have received your latest report which requires some clarification.” The image that appeared was a young woman in her Imperial Intelligence uniform.

“Keeper, may I introduce Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, Queen of Lordearon.” Bellon turned the holoterminal so that Keeper would see Sylvanas. He then set the terminal on a table and placed himself within the viewer with Sylvanas.

“We will discuss your resignation at a more opportune time,” Keeper snarled glaring at Bellon. “In the meantime, I have informed Darth Vowrawn of the situation. Did you not try to break up the fight?”

“No sir, I did not; especially after Ma’zhin summoned some hell demon that promptly killed Hypocritus, myself, Dark Rangers Alina and Sarena, and two Deathguards.”

“You look quite recovered for being dead,” she sniffed.

“That’s twice. My reports have discussed the transience of death on this world. May I ask why Lord Vowrawn was not able to come?”

“The Corellian Council asked to become a vassal planet of the Empire. Vowrawn was sent by the Dark Council, at the insistence of one Darth Baras, to negotiate the terms. Since then, the Republic attacked and now Corellia is embroiled in a war. Darth Vowrawn had told Darth Phallas to handle the matter. Apparently, Darth Phallas passed the negotiations off to Lord Hypocritus.”

“This narrative is not filling me with confidence in regards to having your Empire as an ally,” Sylvanas snapped.

“Cipher Nine, you are to reestablish contact with Lord Hypocritus and remind him of his duty to the Empire,” Keeper’s tone was stern.

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir. Dark Ranger Alina!” He looked past the holoterminal in surprise.

The Dark Ranger was breathing heavily as if she had run from the outpost. “My Lady, friend,” she bobbed her head to Sylvanas and Bellon.

“I take it this is further news of this Hypocritus and Ma’zhin?” Sylvanas asked. “Keeper, you will want to hear this.” She indicated Alina step into the range of the holoviewer.

Alina gave the object and image a suspicious glance but did as her queen instructed.

“About four hours ago, Hypocritus and Zar were still fighting when…”

“Still?” Sylvanas demanded then groaned.

“Yes my lady. Our spotter saw a squadron of Wildhammer griffins headed our way. We tried to warn the two but they were too distracted. The rest of us took cover and began firing, but the griffin riders remained out of our bow range. Hypocritus or Zar could easily have hit them with their magic but they were still fighting one another. The dwarves dropped bombs and magic killing both Hypocritus and Zar. They then flew east toward their aerie in the Hinterlands.”

“Then that is the end of Hypocritus.” Keeper shook her head.

“Not necessarily,” Bellon assured. “Go on Alina.”

“When the two respawned, Zar demanded to know what had happened. I told him. Last thing I saw, he and Hypocritus were headed for the Hinterlands to wreak vengeance upon the Wildhammer Clan.” She looked up at Sylvanas. “I had Maise open a portal and came to tell you. There was no permanent loss of life.”

“It’s a win-win,” Bellon cheered. He was undaunted by the glares of the three women. “Either Zar and Hypocritus wipe out the Wildhammer Clan; or those crazy dwarves wipe out Zar and Hypocritus.”

“Cipher Nine, you are talking about a lord of the Sith,” Keeper admonished.

“No, I’m talking about two idiots who deserve each other,” he countered.

“Master Dekidt is correct,” Sylvanas assured. “Though I admit I prefer the Wildhammer Clan over the return of Zar Ma’zhin and by extension this Lord Hypocritus.”

“Did no one try to remind Lord Hypocritus why he was sent to Azeroth?” Keeper demanded as if fighting a headache.

“No,” Alina admitted unabashedly. “The idiots would listen to no one. Zar Ma’zhin has a duty to the Horde and your Lord Hypocitus has a duty to you. Neither would be swayed from retribution against the Wildhammer Clan for a perceived slight. As a matter of fact, you would have thought the two long-lost friends reunited in a glorious quest as they charged off hand in hand.” Alina did not hide her disgust. She turned to Sylvanas. “My Lady, if you have no further need of me, I should return to the outpost.”

“Very well, Alina; thank you for bringing us this news.” Sylvanas dismissed the ranger then addressed Keeper. “It seems you will have to send someone ‘more responsible’ as Master Dekidt had suggested.”

Keeper rubbed her temples. “I shall inform Darth Vowrawn immediately. It will take some time to straighten this out; I will contact you, Cipher Nine, as soon as I have information. Cipher Nine, you will remain there and continue sending reports. I do not want to hear any nonsense about resigning from Imperial Intelligence.”

“Regulation 490§10-A.1…”

“I know the damned regulations; that assumes you stay dead,” Keeper snapped back.

“It doesn’t say that,” Bellon calmly reminded her. “But don’t worry; I do not walk off an assignment even when I die. I shall see this through to the end, as a private contractor. Cipher Nine out.” He hastily severed the contact.

“Keeper is not going to be happy with you,” Sylvanas noted. “If I were her, I would have you flogged, hung, drawn and quartered, then do it all over again for your insolence.”

“Agreed and she will. Will that be all, my lady?”

“Yes. Tell your friends I might have a task for you.” Sylvanas dismissed Bellon.

“Oh, it is just my humble opinion, but should Zar and Hypocritus survive their encounter with the dwarves and return; I think you should add their heads to your little collection.” He pointed toward the pikes with the heads of the former Gilneans and Stillwater, which Sylvanas brought with her.

Bellon had no intention of letting this assignment fail. If he had to, he would take on the negotiations himself. He was beginning to like the people on this crazy planet and having them as allies would keep the Empire on its toes.

He was greeted at the inn with a flurry of questions. By the time he finished recounting everything that had happened since he left their company several nights ago, Torque was rolling on the floor laughing hysterically and Arbeth and Luxraina were giggling nearly uncontrollably. In retrospect, he saw the humor of it all and joined in laughing.

The arrival of Executor Murphy sobered them up. The Dark Lady sent them a message. While they were battling the small Legion force in Eversong Woods, the main Burning Legion Army had landed on the Broken Shores. Both King Varian Wrynn and Warchief Vol’jin had died as a result of the ensuing battle. Sylvanas was now Warchief of the Horde and the Alliance was being led by Wrynn’s young son Anduin. A portal was being formed that would deliver them to Dalaran where they would meet with the Shaman Thrall.

“Dalaran?” Arbeth shook her head. “That belongs to the Kirin Tor; they would never allow any Horde in their city.” She was obviously unsettled.

“There are Horde mages who are members of the Kirin Tor,” Luxraina explained.

“I’m not sure I want to be in a floating city no matter who has control. What if someone sneezes? Won’t it fall? And I’ll be in it.” Torque wrung his hands.

“Mages, especially the Kirin Tor, are not so reckless,” Luxraina assured.

“How often do you sneeze when casting a spell,” Bellon asked.

“Frequently, and it really bollixes things up. Once in school I was trying to cast a fireball and I sneezed. Blew up the whole classroom.”

Bellon thought he now understood why Torque never used fire magic, just the staff.

They stepped through the portal and out into an expansive chamber with Blood Elf guards in Silvermoon Livery posted at the door.

“Welcome to Dalaran and the front for the war against the Burning Legion,” the commander of the guards greeted them. “The Shaman is gathering with all mercenaries who have answered his call. This way please.”

She led them out, through the gates of the Horde enclave and along the boulevards of the city to a large domed building. When they entered, there were probably 100 other mercenaries from both the Horde and the Alliance.

The crowd was naturally split so they eased themselves over to the Horde side of the room.

“Oh my god, will you look at that. Do you know who that is?” Torque pointed at two figures on the dais. One was a massive Orc and the other a towering, white-haired human; both dressed in robes and chatting amiably.

“Thrall himself,” Arbeth whispered in awe.

“No, the human, that’s Archmage Khadgar; I thought he was dead.” Torque was obviously impressed.

“Why would he be dead in this world where death is nothing more than a minor if painful inconvenience?” Bellon asked.

The room went silent when the two on the dais stood and faced the crowd.

“Our world is threatened,” the human’s voice seemed to be Force augmented. “We must put aside our differences and realize that only together can we drive the Burning Legion from our land.”

The Orc spoke, his voice indicated he was aged but not weakened by years. “You have all had the courage to answer the call. You have all shown your worth and dedication to this world. Now is the time to throw our combined strength against these would-be usurpers.”

“You are all being given a map of the Broken Isles with the known locations of Burning Legion positions. As our combined armies fight theirs on the Broken Shores, you will scour the countryside destroying these encampments and any others you might find.” Khadgar indicated a huge map behind him as liveried Orcs and humans began passing out smaller copies of the maps.

“What about Argus?” a human toward the front shouted pointing skyward.

“Thrall, myself, the Kirin Tor, the Earthen Ring, and the Argent Crusade are taking care of that,” Khadgar explained.

“I know some of you have fought small contingents of the Burning Legion who dared attempt to attack capital cities directly.” Thrall spoke, “Orgrimmar, Silvermoon, Darnassas, and Stormwind. I urge you to keep in mind that those were not the best and brightest of the Burning Legion forces. What you face here are the best trained, the best armed, and the most feared. Before you leave Dalaran, ensure you are armed and equipped to face what lies ahead.”

The two leaders left the dais and the crowd began murmuring. The four faced one another studying the map.

“I’m really glad we have Billy’s fart gun,” Torque said scratching his nervous neck.

“Will you stop calling it that,” Bellon groaned. “One of the times I kill you I’m going to be sure it hurts like hell.” He turned and left the hall. He had some thinking to do. This was a desperate development.

He sat about half-way down the outside steps and wondered if the Empire could pull both factions into the fold if they helped Azeroth with their Legion problem. Two battle cruisers with their space-to-surface batteries, tie-fighter squadrons, and marines could make short shrift of these horned devils.

He became aware of someone sniffling in the garden below. He peered over the granite railing and saw the top of a furry, rust-colored head below; the shoulders of the owner of the head were trembling.

He descended the stairs and walked around to see what was happening. On a bench, sat a Pandaren female; her fur and hair were a rust-red and she wore pale lavender, silk robes.

“May I ask why you’re crying?” He ventured closer.

The Pandaren started and stared at him a little afraid. “Oh, it’s nothing, really.”

He knelt in front of her. “I might be a thick-headed, insensitive male type but I know when a wo… a female is hurting. They say it’s sometimes easier to talk to a stranger.”

She snorted a bitter laugh. “That’s easy, everyone’s a stranger. I don’t know anyone.” She started crying again.

“I’ve been told I’m a good listener. As a matter of fact, my livelihood and life depends upon me being a good listener.” He sat on the bench beside her.

She looked up and actually saw him for the first time. “You’re not human but you look human.”

He smiled and shrugged. “It is said my people descended from humans. My name is Be… Billy Dekidt.” He stuck out his hand.

“I’m Cinnabar.” She took his hand.

His hand was small in her large paw so he wrapped it with both hands and squeezed it reassuringly. “Now, what is bothering you?”

“I answered Khadgar’s call and got here about four days ago. I’ve been advertising my services and visiting all the inns looking for a party to join.” She stared at her trembling paws. “No one wants me. I’ve had three interviews and they all told me they want someone with more fighting experience than me.”

Bellon glanced up as Torque came around the corner. He nodded his head as a signal not to intrude. “What sort of experience do you have? What is your skill?”

“I’m a priestess, a healer. I’m not a fighter.” Her breath caught when she saw Torque watching them.

“He’s a friend, a loud, obnoxious friend but mostly harmless,” Bellon assured.

“You’re with the Horde,” she gasped.

He noticed that she didn’t back away from him. “I must admit that my companions and I are here at the behest of Sylvanas Windrunner. You were saying you are a healer. Have you seen any action?”

She nodded. She began rattling off all the places she had been involved in fights. The group she had been traveling with had decided to retire; she wasn’t ready so long as the Burning Legion was terrorizing her home; she came to Dalaran.

Torque let out a soft whistle and approached with awe and respect. “You’ve seen it all.” He looked up at Arbeth and Luxraina leaning over the stair rails. “We could use a healer.”

“She’s Alliance,” Arbeth spat.

“She serves the holy light,” Luxraina countered. “The goblin is right; we should have a healer.” She started down the steps.

“We have you,” Arbeth pointed out.

Bellon looked up at Arbeth leaning over above them. “Luxraina is our best fighter. We need her in the thick of things; she can’t keep running back and forth trying to keep the rest of us alive.”

“What healing spells do you know?” Luxraina asked sitting on Cinnabar’s other side.

“Holy Word, Divine Hymn, Prayer of Healing, Resurrect…”

“I want her with us,” Torque interrupted her having heard enough. “Especially if Billy decides to kill me.”

“Shut it,” Bellon hissed. “Don’t scare her.”

“Why would you want me, a failed Alliance priestess?”

“I don’t see how you’ve failed,” Bellon shook his head. “Your original group broke up leaving you to find a new path. No one you talked to has the brains to see what an asset you’d be.”

“They wanted a priest who could fight.”

“Hell, we’ve got fighters coming out of our asses,” Torque rolled his eyes. “And Billy’s the best damned assassin this side of the void.”

Cinnabar’s eyes widened at Bellon, now she did back away. “I thought you might be a hunter the way you’re dressed.”

“Nope, the finest shot with the most amazing Fart Mark-1 you could ask for.”

“Torque,” Luxriana reached over and slapped the goblin on the side of his head. “When Billy is through killing you, I am going to suspend you by your thumbs from a tree over a group of hungry crocolisks.”

“Stop calling it a fart gun.” Bellon winced at the appellation. He smiled when he heard Cinnabar suppress a giggle. “There, you’re relaxing and we desperately need a healer. I’m thinking in this particular situation it doesn’t matter whether we’re Alliance, or Horde as long as we get these Burning Legion creeps off Azeroth. He looked at the other three. “What do you say guys?

“I say welcome to the group,” Torque was eager.

“I would appreciate the company of another servant of the Holy Light,” Luxraina looked up at Arbeth.

Arbeth sighed. “We do need a healer. I’ve known other Pandarens and their honor and word have always been good.” She took a deep breath and nodded. “Welcome to this group of contentious misfits, Cinnabar.”

“What’s contentious?” Torque whispered to Bellon.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang goes to Dalaran to lend aid in the defense of Azeroth against the Burning Legion.  
> Billy demonstrates "the transience of death on Azeroth" in one of his reports to Keeper.   
> The group's newest member starts fitting in.

That evening, the five gathered at a neutral tavern to decide where to start. There were five regions: Aszuna, Suramar, Stormheim, Highmountain, and Val’shara.

“General Genn Greymane and his Worgen army are located in Stormheim; you might not want to go there. There are several clans of Tauren in Highmountain; they’re all neutral in regards to the Horde or the Alliance.” Cinnabar indicated on the maps where the two were located. “Aszuna used to be home to Elves but they’re all ghosts now; there are some blue dragons, live ones. Val’shara has Elves, still alive, and a small community of Gilneans and Worgens. Suramar is just plain dangerous.”

“How do you know all this?” Torque asked in wonder.

“She listens and learns,” Bellon told him.

“You said Elves; Blood Elves or High Elves?” Arbeth asked.

Cinnabar shrugged. “I can’t tell the difference.”

Torque chuckled. “Neither can I.”

“Nor I,” Luxraina admitted.

Arbeth sighed. “The Night Elves are nocturnal and have darker skin than the shorter and fair-skinned, diurnal Blood Elves.”

“What’s diurnal mean?” Torques asked frowning.

“They prefer daylight,” Bellon explained. He was recording all their conversations these days. He could edit it later to send back the pertinent information, like the difference between Night and Blood Elves. “Is that the only difference?” he asked.

Cinnabar shook her head. “No, the Sin’dorei, Blood Elves are addicted to magic. The Kal’dorei, Night Elves prefer druidic magic.”

“You are so-o smart.” Torque was awed. “I think I love you.”

If it was possible for a fur-bearing being to blush, Bellon would have sworn he saw the Pandaren’s facial fur turn a slightly redder shade.

Luxraina shuddered. “I do not think I want to deal with ghosts.”

“Me neither,” Cinnabar agreed.

“I don’t want to end up surrounded by bitter and angry Gilneans and Worgen,” Arbeth said.

“That rules out Val’shara and Aszuna,” Bellon noted. “Also perhaps Stormheim, depending upon our chances of running into a Worgen King-general whose lands were wrenched from him by the Forsaken.”

“And his son murdered by Sylvanas,” Torque added. “If Cinnabar says Suramar is dangerous, I don’t want to go there.

“Okay, that leaves Highmountain,” Bellon tapped the map on a place called Thunder Totem. “This looks like the main population center.”

“We leave in the morning,” Arbeth announced. “We will all meet at Krasus Landing two hours after dawn.”

“That early?” Torque wailed.

“Yes,” Arbeth hissed. “Good night Cinnabar.”

“Good night,” she bowed to the group and headed for the inn where she was staying.

“I need to make sure Luxraina has sufficient power cores. I think I saw an engineering shop in the Commerce Exchange area.” Bellon scooped up his backpack and headed off.

“I’m going to help him,” Torque hurried to catch up with Bellon. “Heh, Billy, wait; thought you might need an extra hand.”

He stared down at the goblin. “What is my rifle called?”

“Uh, er, a Flash-Blasted Basher?”

“Ugh, close enough. You get to make the gold power cores. I’ll take care of my rifle.”

“How much you gonna pay me to help?”

“I will grant you the honor of the continued ability to breath air and see the next sunrise. In other words, no true death.”

They finished late and Bellon set the holorecorder on the table in the room he shared with Torque.

Report 13: Day 27: The Burning Legion. Tonight, we are in the floating city of Dalaran. Torque explained that… say hello to Keeper, Torque.

Hello to keeper torque.

Please explain about Dalaran.

When the Forsaken overran Lordaeron, the Kirin Tor mages placed a permanent levitation spell on Dalaran. It can be moved about the world and is presently located over the Broken Isles.

Thank you Torque. We were sent here to help with the Burning Legion problem. This problem is of such magnitude that the two factions, the Horde and the Alliance, are working together to repel the invaders.

As a matter of fact, we have taken a fifth member into our little party. Cinnabar is a Pandaren priestess who aligned herself with the Alliance. The Pandaren are generally neutral but some have opted to offer their expertise to…

“And she’s really cute and sweet.”

“Shut up Torque. …expertise to one or the other faction. A priestess…”

“Is all this for your boss?”

“Torque, will you please shut it.”

“Sheesh, bite my head off will you. Just asking a question.”

“One more question and the subject of this report is going to change to The Transience of Death as Demonstrated by Torque Sharpshiv.” Bellon glared at the goblin.

“All right, all right. I’ll sit here all quiet like and check my backpack to make sure I have everything I need.”

“Please do.” Bellon turned back to the recorder.

As I was trying to say, a priestess is primarily a healer. Luxraina is capable of healing but she is our heavy infantry; she is the only one capable of close-quarter engagement with an armored adversary.

“Heh, Billy, did you see what I did with my Airbase-in-a-Box?”

Bellon looked totally perplexed. “What the hell is an Airbase-in-a-box?”

Torque rolled his eyes. “An airbase that’s in a box for emergency use, stupid.”

“You’ve been running around with an airbase in your backpack?”

“Sure, doesn’t everyone have one?”

“I didn’t know you had one. No, I don’t know what you did with it. Why don’t you go bother the girls about it?” Bellon had to think a moment to remember what he was saying.

Ah, yes, Luxraina as I said is our main melee fighter whose job is to keep the enemy preoccupied while the rest of us inflict damage. She can’t keep running back to heal someone else. Cinnabar…

“Oh, silly me, here it is; I put it in my Town-in-a-Box.” Torque laughed at himself holding up a box for Bellon to see.

“Town-in-a-Box? Before you ask, no I don’t have one and no not everyone does. Can’t you do that without talking?”

“Man, you’re in a grumpy mood tonight.” Torque went back to organizing his backpack for the next morning’s departure.

Cinnabar can heal; she’s not a fighter at all so will have to stay back behind Torque, Arbeth and me. Her ability to heal is prodigious…

“What’s prodigious mean?”

“That does it.” Bellon began rummaging through his backpack. “The subject has just changed. Allow me to demonstrate the transience of Death. Say goodbye to Keeper, Torque.”

“Goodbye to keeper torque.” The goblin frowned confused.

Bellon shot Torque in the head with his blaster. “As you will observe, Torque Sharpshiv now has a fist sized hole in his head and so is most assuredly dead. However, observe closely and you will see the damage begin to repair itself; it has already begun.” He held the recorder so the gaping wound was clearly visible.

The process, without the assistance of a resurrection from Luxraina or Cinnabar takes anywhere from 10 to 20 standard minutes. I shall continue with my prior explanation while we wait for Torque’s miraculous recovery.

Now having Cinnabar as a healer, Luxraina is free to fight. Both are what Azerothians call servants of the Light. Their light is not like the Jedi, it is more actual light. You will have observed Luxraina’s attacks using this light.

“You mother-fucking sonofabitch.” Torque sat up. “You got blood all over my robes and bed.”

As you can see, Torque Sharpshiv is none the worse for wear.

“None the worse for wear! That hurt you blue-skinned, plague-sore carbuncle. And now I gotta clean blood out of silk.”

“Oh, stop whining, use that clean-o-matic thingie.” Bellon waved at Torque’s backpack.

Oh, yeah.

The process of cleaning blood from his bed and robes kept Torque out of Bellon’s hair. Bellon finished the report and sent it off to 2VR8 for relay to Dromund Kaas, unedited.

********

The next morning, the group was gathered together with their mounts in the grassy area surrounding the landing site. Azerothians on flying mounts of all kinds landed and took off from the circular pad.

“We could put our mounts in our backpacks,” Torque suggested.

Cinnabar’s yak bleated in apparent protest.

“I agree that’s not a really good idea for the live animals,” Bellon suggested.

“Torque, could you learn to open a portal for us to Thunder Totem?” Cinnabar asked.

He thought a bit. “I suppose so; let me ask if there’s someone to teach me.” He wandered off. When he came back, he looked upset. “It’ll cost me fourteen gold to learn from that Kirin Tor scalper over there. It’ll cost us 15 gold to get him to open a portal for us.”

Cinnabar dug into her purse and dropped fourteen gold pieces into Torque’s astonished hand. “Go, learn.”

“Now I know I love you.” He kissed her paw, the only decent part of her he could reach, and jogged back over to the mage.

“Be ready to be transported to our destination by the one, the only, the incredible, the…”

“Do it!” Bellon unslung his rifle.

“Okay, okay.”

In a few minutes, they all stepped through onto a road leading to a small farm nestled against the base of mountains and a mesa. There was no one about but there were cries and shouts coming from the direction of the farm.

They headed that way. Huge worms and slugs were attacking a Tauren farmer, tearing up her fields. The farmer, armed only with a pitchfork, stood her ground fighting off the slugs with the help of a Tauren druid. On the bank of the river was a creature that seemed to be directing the assault.

“Billy, you take care of the worms; we’ll get the slugs,” Arbeth ordered leaping off Black and notching an arrow.

The well-armed group quickly took care of the attackers. With one final shot, Bellon dropped the sentient creature that had been calling in the beasts.

The Tauren druid stepped up and greeted Luxraina. “Welcome, sister; I am Jale Rivermane.” She acknowledged the group. “Thank you for saving us.”

“What was that all about?” Arbeth indicated the dead creatures.

“They are the advanced troops of Dargrul.” She pointed at a road leading generally northwest. “His Drogbar soldiers are attacking Whitewater Wash. If they are not stopped, they will advance upon this location then Thunder Totem. Please, Sisters and Brothers, help us.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” Bellon pointed out and swung up onto Spot.

“But we’re supposed to check in with the grand, high, mucky-muck Tauren,” Torque reminded him.

“There’s plenty of time for that,” Arbeth was up on Black as Luxraina and Cinnabar were mounting. “Let’s clear out these S-O-Bs first.”

The road led them to a small fishing village along a river. They heard the sound of fighting before they rounded the bend and saw, a second group of Taurens on a dock being pressed by Drogbar.

The Drogbar were about two meters tall, with massive forearms and upper legs. Their heads were vaguely canine in shape but the lower jaw was protruding with tusks. A mane of spikes ran from their brows down their back. Some wore fur loin cloths and swung spiked clubs; others wore armor and carried iron weapons.

The group dismounted and began hitting the Drogbar with long range attacks. Bellon brought down the last of the Drogbar as it tried to flee. At that moment Jale Rivermane ran up.

The villagers rewarded the group with a meal of fresh fish and vegetables. As the two groups ate, Jale explained the problem with Dargrul, the self-proclaimed Underking.

“Why is it everyone wants to destroy the residents of this world and rule it themselves?” Bellon asked shaking his head. “That was rhetorical, Torque.” He stopped the goblin before Torque could answer the question.

“What’s rehortical mean?”

“Metaphorical? Allegorical? Abstract?” Bellon looked for a synonym Torque could understand. “Not literal?” He shook his head giving up.

“It means it isn’t meant to be answered,” Cinnabar explained.

“Oh. Why didn’t you just say that?”

“Rhetorical is now a new word you can file away in your vast mental dictionary, which apparently is empty,” Bellon explained.

“What was that word you used last night to describe Cin; before you killed me.”

“He killed you?” Cinnabar was shocked.

“Billy’s been threatening to kill Torque for a long time now,” Luxraina explained. “So you finally got around to it.”

“It was part of a lesson for the folks back home and it was just one time out of five; he still owes me four. The word was prodigious in regards to Cin’s healing ability,” Bellon reminded. “It means extraordinary or exceptional. You do know what those words mean?”

Torque scoffed. “Yeah, they mean lots.”

“Impressive might be better,” Arbeth explained.

“Oh, okay. Prodigious is like impressive.” Torque absorbed the information. “Like this was a prodigious meal.”

“Exactly,” the group chorused.

“Back to the problem at hand.” Bellon turned back to Jale. “How can we best help?”

“It would be best to confront Dargrul directly but I fear he is too formidable.”

“Formidable?” Torque asked.

“I’ll explain later,” Bellon stopped the conversation from getting off track again. “Might the Tauren at Thunder Totem help?”

“They have their own problems. You should talk to Mayla Highmountain. Perhaps if you can resolve their issues, they could then help us with Dargrul. Even in his stronghold, he could not stand up to the combined might of the Highmountain and Rivermane Tribes.”

“How do we find this Mayla?” Luxraina asked.

“Go back to the farm and take the road to the south. It will lead you to the base of Thunder Totem; there will be several tunnels into the mountain. She should be just inside,” Jale explained.

The group said goodbye to the villagers and rode back across the bridge, up the road, and past the farm. The distance from the farm to the base of the mountain was only a few miles and an opening into the base of the mesa was very easy to find.

The tunnel wasn’t very long and opened into a cavern carved out of the mesa’s base. There were two other tunnels leading out east and west and several alcoves, one with a glowing crystal; and two lifts leading up to the city proper at the top of the mesa. In the middle of the cavern stood a female Tauren in armor with two massive swords slung to her back.

There was no one to stop them, so they approached her. “Mayla Highmountain?” Luxraina asked. When the fighter nodded, Luxraina introduced herself and the group. “Shaman Thrall and Jale Rivermane directed us to you to offer our assistance in securing the area from the Burning Legion and their allies.”

Mayla’s sigh of relief was almost comical in its exaggeration. “Thank the ancestors. There is much to be done and our resources are stretched thin. You are not the first to arrive at Thrall’s or Khadgar’s behest. Reports of the presence of the Burning Legion are pouring in as we speak. Allow me some time to sort through it all and I will be able to task everyone who has arrived. You will find the inn above on the south side. There are also merchants and repair shops, a stable for your mounts, as well as the flight master. Come back about mid-afternoon.” She gestured at one of the lifts.

“Summarily dismissed,” Arbeth grumbled as they head for a lift they could see was descending.

“She seems flustered and distracted. It would be good for her to have time and quiet to organize the information,” Cinnabar suggested.

“I for one welcome the respite in order to clean my rifle before we get involved in another firefight,” Bellon said.

The flat top of the mesa had a fence around the outside to prevent accidental falls to death 400 feet below. To their right was the stable with the griffins and bats of the flight master. The center was a large structure with shops on the first level and homes above the shops. This portion of the city was connected by suspension bridges to two outcroppings. The one closest to them was apparently all residential. The south side of the mesa had a small bridge that connected it to a road rising up into the mountains proper.

They headed that way looking for the inn. The entry was wide and well marked. Inside, they found the innkeeper and her family. They received bed assignments and headed through the common area to find their rooms. There were several other groups already there; they brought the total number of adventurers to twenty-four.

“There’s one hot cookie to whom I must say ‘hello’,” Torque waved at a friendly female goblin. “Excuse me.” He broke off and jogged toward her.

Bellon found the room he and Torque would share and dropped his pack and claimed his bed. He resupplied the power cores that he carried in his haversack and stretched out to nap. He had gone to sleep late the night before and got up early.

Banging on the door and Luxraina’s voice woke him. He rubbed sleep from his eyes and opened the door.

“Arbeth said it is time to return to Mayla. Where is Torque?”

Bellon grabbed his haversack and rifle. “I guess he’s still with that little goblinette.”

Luxraina chuckled. “I like that, goblinette.” She sighed. “We better find him.”

Arbeth and Cinnabar were waiting at the top of the stairs. Luxraina explained there was no Torque. In the common room, there was no Torque or the goblin female.

Bellon sent the females on to meet with Mayla while he did some investigating. Her name was Babs Gearsprocket, she was a thief, and they had been last seen headed for her room on the third floor. Bellon got Babs’ room number from the innkeeper, found the room, and rousted Torque out of his amorous tryst.

“She’s a thief,” Bellon pointed out as they headed down the stairs. “I hope you still have all your cash.”

Torque hefted his purse. “Yup; she wouldn’t steal from me,” he said confidently then explained, “she’s the sneak and lockpick for her group.”

Bellon couldn’t fault Torque seeking out Babs’ company. He knew what it was like when others of your species are rare, especially females. He wondered briefly what Loa was doing and hoped she had found a stable man within the Ascendency with whom to settle down. At least he knew she was safe from the machinations of Imperial Intelligence. He tried to ignore the sadness he felt.

They caught up with the other three in Mayla’s cavern; the other adventurers were drifting in. Torque waved when he saw Babs with her group, another goblin, three Orcs and two Trolls.

Bellon noticed she was holding the hand of the goblin, who also smiled and waved eagerly to Torque. Bellon shook his head. He counted four other groups. The cavern was crowded with the five groups of adventurers and their mounts.

The sight of the Trolls and arrival of a party of boistrous Dwarves reminded Bellon of Lord Hypocritus and Zar Ma’zhin; he wondered briefly if they were still trying to kill off the Wildhammer Clan.

“I want to thank all of you for answering our call for help,” Mayla addressed the group. “I have reports of Drogbar attacking the Rivermane…”

“We took care a them,” Torque piped up.

Luxraina poked and shushed him.

Mayla paused a moment longer before continuing. “Attacking the Rivermane tribe’s village of Riverbend. Spiritwalker Ebonhorn has sent a request for aid.” She looked over and set her eyes on Torque. “Since you have already been helping the Rivermane today, I will send you five to assist Spiritwalker Ebonhorn and Jale Rivermane. Out the west tunnel and follow the road south.”

“Let’s go,” Arbeth started in that direction as Mayla continued with her briefing.

They traveled along the riverbank opposite Whitewater Wash. The Tauren of the fishing village waved cheerfully as they passed. About five miles on, they came upon a village of wood and hide structures surrounded by farming fields. It sat on the bank of a creek fed by glaciers high above them. The crystal-clear, icy water bubbled merrily past toward the river.

They were directed to a large hut on the northwest side where they were greeted by an elderly Tauren, Spiritwalker Ebonhorn.

Bellon’s hackles immediately rose; there was something wrong about this Tauren and it wasn’t the suspicious look Ebonhorn threw at him.

“Jale Rivermane is on the southeast side near the cave with Warbrave Oro and Oaken Ironbull, Ebonhorn told them. “She will be most pleased to see you. I am sure she has something for you to do.”

They found Jale and the two Tauren males where Ebonhorn had said. Jale expressed concern that Dargrul would attack the village and asked the group to get the people to the safety of Ebonhorn’s abode. She seemed to believe protecting them was at least something Ebonhorn could do.

“Who is he?” Bellon asked.

Jale shook her head. “He was a friend of Ulan Highmountain, Mayla’s father. When the [Burning Legion](https://wow.gamepedia.com/Burning_Legion) were last here, Ebonhorn met with the Tauren chiefs and [Dargrul](https://wow.gamepedia.com/Dargrul) in Neltharion’s vault. Ebonhorn told us that the Legion's fall would come at the hands of [champions](https://wow.gamepedia.com/Adventurer) from outside Highmountain, empowered by the Hammer of Khaz’goroth and aided by the united peoples of Highmountain. We all felt that the Hammer belonged to the people of Highmountain alone and objected; but Ulan said the [Highmountain Tribe](https://wow.gamepedia.com/Highmountain_Tribe) would obey the spirits. Lashan, Torok, and I agreed. Dargrul, however, claimed only strength would drive back the Legion. He seized the hammer and killed Ulan then fled. Other than bringing disaster upon the Highmountain tribe, Ebonhorn’s only talent seems to be storytelling.”

“So he’s a member of Mayla’s tribe?” Bellon asked.

Jale shook her head. “He’s been around for as long as I can remember, a friend of Ulan but not a member of the tribe; he’s not a member of any tribe from what I can tell.”

The five spread out and worked their way through the village herding the unarmed non-combatants to the elder’s home. As they turned back toward Jale, they could hear someone shouting; this was followed by a huge explosion and the ground was thrown up under their feet.

When Bellon regained his feet, he could see that most of the village was destroyed by a rift and jutting rocks. Drogbar were flowing toward them.

The elder Tauren appeared in his doorway, “Find Jale and the others.” He had a wicked-looking scythe in his hand.

Bellon realized that it was no farming implement; it was a weapon of war. He also noticed that only Ebonhorn’s abode had been spared from the destruction.

Arbeth and Cinnabar headed off in one direction together; Bellon sent Torque with Luxraina; he headed southeast toward the cave mouth. He had to fight his way through, but that wasn’t too hard. The Drogbar didn’t seem inclined to fight as a unit. One-on-one, it was very easy to eliminate any opposition. He found high ground and looked around. Up by the cave mouth stood a Drogbar that was so huge as to seem improbable. He figured that was Underking Dargrul; the giant brandished a huge hammer over his head shouting something about “…by this hammer.” Before Bellon could aim and fire, the Drogbar leader disappeared back inside the cave.

He then saw Jale, bound up in some type of webbing, suspended above the ground between two stalagmites near the cave mouth. He took off running. He leapt onto the back of Jale’s unsuspecting Drogbar guard and slit his throat. He picked up the creature’s sword and decapitated it then kicked the head into the rift.

The webbing was easy to destroy and Jale was soon free. The others arrived with the Tauren they had freed in tow. Other braves were arriving to support their leaders.

“We didn’t have time to ensure true death,” Arbeth announced. “It won’t be long before they start to regenerate. Let’s get to safety.”

“There is no safety.” Jale nearly wept. “He destroyed my village. I don’t understand; we never had problems co-existing with the Drogbar before. What has turned them against us?”

“That’s rhetorquical, right?” Torque asked.

“Yeah,” Bellon answered.

“No, we have him cornered in his cave. Now is the time to strike,” Oro encouraged.

“An animal is at its most dangerous when cornered,” Bellon pointed out.

But Oro was set and with his lieutenants and braves hurried toward the cave.

“Get them to safety,” Bellon indicated Jale and the wounded then hurried after Oro and Ironbull. He was aware Luxraina was right behind him.

They caught up with the Tauren just inside the cave. There was an eerie glow from up ahead.

“There will be guards accompanied by tamed basilisks,” Oro explained. “We take them out and it will be only Dargrul and us.”

“He is not thinking this through clearly,” Luxraina whispered to Bellon.

“Then let’s do what we can to keep him alive until he realizes that.” Bellon began moving through the network of cave tunnels slowly. His eyes quickly adjusted to the dark. He didn’t let Luxraina create any light; he could see better this way.

They met several pairs of Drogbar and their pets; they eliminated them and ensured they would not regenerate. Deeper into the cave, a light appeared. Following it led them into a vast open cavern. The Tauren were converging on this spot as well.

“Dargrul will be toward the back,” Oro explained as the group eased forward.

At the back there was an open shelf about half-way up the wall; on the shelf was the outline of the Underking and his staff.

“Insolent worms, you are in the presence of a god,” Dargrul shouted then jumped off the shelf, landing with a shudder in front of them. Before anyone could respond, there was a flash-bang.

Bellon couldn’t move. He could shift his eyes to see all the Tauren crumble to dust. He realized Luxraina had engulfed him and her in the light; Dargrul’s action had managed only to paralyze them.

“These ones are still alive,” one of the Drogbar pointed out.

“I see,” Dargrul growled. “They will return to the foolish Tauren and tell them what power they face.” The giant turned and led his men off deeper into the cave. His departure left the cavern in the dark.

Once they were out of sight, Bellon fell gasping to the ground. He heard Luxraina groan; she was injured but alive. She indicated he wait a moment. Once she caught her breath, she did a quick heal on both of them then created a light. She set off at a jog for the open air with Bellon on her heels.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our intrepid band of adventurers must now help to unify the clans of Highmountain, and Billy detects a dark truth. What could possibly go wrong?  
> Billy becomes acquainted with harpies and learns more about Torque than he ever wanted.

The news brought Jale, already frazzled by the day’s events, to tears. Ebonheart gave her something to drink and herded everyone out of his hut. “We must go to Thunder Totem,” he announced. He walked slowly and indicated he wanted the group to walk with him. “Mayla is the daughter of the high chief, but she is not the high chief yet. We must help her,” he told the group as they followed behind the surviving, displaced Rivermane tribe.

Back at the Hall of Chieftains under Thunder Totem, Arbeth told Mayla the situation.

She looked over at Jale standing beside her then Arbeth. “We must unite the tribes. I have sent all the others off to drive the Burning Legion away and have only you five. You must go to the other two chiefs, Lasan Skyhorn and Torok Bloodtotem. Do whatever you must to secure their allegiance, then return to me.”

“You are not high chief,” Jale sadly reminded Mayla. “The others have no reason to follow you.”

“You follow her,” Arbeth pointed out.

“The others and I are full chiefs of our tribes. They will question why they should follow one who is not an equal. Mayla must first complete the rite to become high chief.”

Mayla groaned and nodded. “Jale is correct.” She looked over her shoulder into an alcove where Ebonhorn had gone. “We should speak to Spiritwalk Ebonhorn, he will know what must be done.” She started toward him, the others falling in step behind her.

“Mayla Highmountain, it is good to see you well,” the elder Tauren greeted. “I know why you are here, you must become chief. First you and I must walk the Path of Huln and see the memories Huln preserved. Go prepare yourself; I will speak with these first.”

Jale left with Mayla offering advice, leaving the group with Ebonhorn. “You must hear the story of [Huln Highmountain](https://wow.gamepedia.com/Huln_Highmountain), the legendary Tauren hero who fought in the [War of the Ancients](https://wow.gamepedia.com/War_of_the_Ancients).” He waved his hand over a pool of water; a diorama of a battlefield appeared in its place.

“Generations ago, the [Burning Legion](https://wow.gamepedia.com/Burning_Legion) first came to [Azeroth](https://wow.gamepedia.com/Azeroth); this was years prior to the events of the [First War](https://wow.gamepedia.com/First_War). The War of the Ancients was one of the largest and most costly wars in Azeroth's history and decided the fate of all life on this planet for millennia to come.”

As he spoke, the figures in the diorama began to move. Bellon felt a wave of vertigo and the sensation of falling. Suddenly, he was among the Tauren braves in the diorama, a Tauren himself.

The Tauren beside him gasped, “Billy, where are you? What the hell just happened?” It was Torque.

“I’m right here Torque. Are the girls here?” Bellon put his hoofed hand on Torque’s shoulder.

“We’re here too,” Arbeth’s voice came from another Tauren male.

They could still hear Ebonhorn’s voice droning on telling how Huln and his braves had met the demons but were being driven back. As the battle played out, the five found themselves reliving it. They were among Huln’s closest advisors and followed him through the events of 10,000 years ago.

They were with Huln when he approached the other tribal chiefs and convinced them that the four tribes had to unite in order to defeat the Burning Legion. They were with him and the combined tribes when they defeated the demons. They were with him when he found a black dragon egg and purified it. They were with him when the baby dragon pledged himself to Huln and his descendants, when Huln named the dragon Ebonhorn.

They were relieved when they stood beside the dragon in Tauren form inside the Hall of Chieftains.

Ebonhorn looked at them. “Mayla cannot know until she is ready. This secret is in your care and is to be kept from all.”

“Why keep it a secret?” Cinnabar asked.

“The Tauren are a proud race,” Ebonhorn responded with a shrug. “It was Huln’s request that only upon ascending to High Chief, will I reveal my true identity to that new High Chief.”

Bellon smiled wickedly. That was what had set off his hackles. “That is why your abode was the only one left standing.”

Ebonhorn nodded.

“How old are you?” Torque asked awed.

Ebonhorn looked down at him. “Very.”

“Why have you told us this secret?” Bellon asked.

Ebonhorn cocked a sly smile at him. “Because you, outworlder, already knew I was not what I seemed. I decided it was best to secure your promises to keep the secret rather than let it come out by accident at some inopportune time.”

“Inop…”

“Shut it, Torque.”

Luxraina bowed to Ebonhorn. “You have our word; your secret is safe with us.”

“Now wait…” Torque gulped when Bellon brandished one of his poisoned knives. “Silent as a mouse; not a word.” He took a deep breath when the knife disappeared.

They all promised to tell no one.

“Ah, the future high chief returns,” Ebonhorn nodded as Mayla returned. “Now she must learn what you know. Excuse me.” He and Mayla left.

Everyone was gathered at the Cradle of the Hammer Inn when Ebonhorn and Mayla returned. Ebonhorn introduced High Chief Mayla Highmountain. There was a short ceremony which consisted of burning a piece of briarwood and anointing Mayla with the ashes. When it was complete, the innkeeper hosted a raucous party.

Bellon had imbibed too much to send his report that evening. He woke at his leisure the next morning and eased his way down to the common room. He saw Torque curled up in a ball next to the fireplace still asleep. As Bellon stumbled toward the table where the three females sat, Cinnabar mumbled an incantation and his hangover disappeared.

“Thank you, dear lady.” He bowed.

She smiled shyly. “You’re welcome.” She looked over at the little green lump. “Should we wake him?”

Everyone stared at Torque snoring contentedly. “No,” the other three responded in unison.

“We wake him and he will start talking,” Luxraina pointed out.

“Relentlessly,” Arbeth added.

“Vociferously,” Bellon finished.

Cinnabar giggled. “Inanely,” she added feeling a little bold. She was please when the others smiled and nodded. “Billy, who is Loa?”

Shaken, he just blinked at her.

“Sorry,” Cinnabar hung her head. “I didn’t mean to make you sad. It’s just that as I was helping you to your room last night, you kept saying her name.”

He lay his hand on her paw. “Someone I cared about and had to leave behind.”

“You love her,” Cinnabar noted.

Reluctantly Bellon nodded. “Though that was foolish. There is no place for love in my line of work. Friends, now that is another matter.” He desperately had to change the subject. He stretched his arms expansively. “You are my friends and no matter where I end up, I shall never forget you.”

“You just met me,” Cinnabar pointed out cautiously.

“Cin, if I didn’t trust my instincts about those I met, I would have died permanently a long time ago. My instincts tell me that all of you, including the over-active mouth,” he jerked his head toward Torque, “are loyal and trustworthy. I am certain that Loa has found a more suitable lifemate. I know she is safe and will be happy. What more could I ask?”

“To love and be loved,” Luxraina told him.

Bellon frowned and shook his head. “That is not the fate of a government assassin.” He looked over at the sleeping goblin. “Why didn’t you drag him up to our room?”

“Couldn’t find him,” Luxraina answered. “He was there when we came down.”

They all turned when Torque made a snorting noise that woke him.

“So much for peace and quiet,” Arbeth muttered. “Lux?”

This time Lux mumbled the incantation that cured Torque’s hangover.

“What’re all you mooks staring at?” he asked sauntering up to the table.

“So did Babs throw you out last night?” Bellon asked.

“Nope, her husband did. What’s there to eat?”

Luxraina shook her head and shoved a plate of fruit, meats, and cheese toward Torque.

“So what does the new high chief-lady want us to do today?” Torque asked between mouthfuls.

“To curry the favor of the last two tribal chiefs and convince them to help defeat Dargrul. We leave as soon as your done stuffing your face and gathered your gear,” Arbeth snapped.

Once they were ready, they received directions to the Skyhorn tribe. On the map, it didn’t look to be far, but it turned out they had to go around some mountains. They left via the south path out of Thunder Totem that rose into the mountains. Near the peak, they ran into a patrol of Burning Legionnaires; it was a short battle. About sunset they made camp in an outpost at the mountain top. The next morning, they followed a road that headed east then turned north. The next couple of days they didn’t run into much resistance and covered ground quickly. The evening of their third day out they arrived on the outskirts of the Skyhorn village and saw Harpies.

Bellon quickly unslung his rifle and shot a harpy that looked ready to set one of the outlying farmhouses on fire. Several other houses were burning and the bodies of the inhabitants lay near the thresholds.

“What the hell is that?” he demanded kicking the winged female’s body over.

“Harpies,” Luxraina spat with disgust.

Cinnabar was looking around with tears in her eyes. “They have murdered entire families. I hope the rest of the village has survived.” Almost panicked, she remounted her yak and raced up the road to the village.

Lasan Skyhorn was easy to pick out; he stood on a rise at the north end of the village yelling orders to his Eagle Riders.

Arbeth introduced the group and explained their purpose.

“All well and good for Mayla, but as you can see, we have troubles of our own. Help me rid the area of these damned harpies and I will gladly pledge my allegiance to Mayla. The bitches have stolen some of our young eagles to turn into Rocs. You attack them from the ground and my Eagle Riders will attack from the air.” He pointed into the valley below.

About a mile away, they could see birds tangled in thorns struggling to get free. Some were writhing in pain as they were transformed into large blue raptors; those were the Rocs Lasan mentioned.

“We attack in the morning,” Lasan announced and indicated a nearby structure. “Tonight, you are my guests.”

********

Bellon had gotten used to the team’s tactic of charging into the fray without a plan; he followed and dismounted next to Cinnabar. He would keep her close where he could protect her should the harpies or raptors decide to attack her.

Over the next two hours, they moved across the valley killing every harpy and blue raptor in their way. Soon all the eaglets were free and flying back to their aeries; they stood at the foot of a mountain with Lasan. Bellon’s eyes watered at a stench drifting down the path to them.

“That’s harpy,” Lasan told him noticing his expression. “The High Crawliac and her hags are up there. We eliminate them and there will be no threat to the village.”

“Got it,” Torque started forward. “Let’s take care of these witches.”

They left their mounts with one of Lasan’s men and started up the narrow mountain path. It took them longer to clear the harpies out of the nooks and crannies of the mountain but as the sun was setting, they stood over the body of the witchqueen, High Crawliac.

“We will celebrate tonight; tomorrow I will return with you to Thunder Totem,” Lasan told them. “My Riders will carry you back down to the village.” He gave them a smile before mounting his eagle and lifting off.

Wine and ale flowed freely over a meal of venison and turkey. Arbeth regulated Torque’s intake of alcohol. Bellon restricted his own consumption.

The next morning, Lasan’s village mage opened a portal to Thunder Totem and the party and chief passed through with their mounts. Lasan strode into the Hall of Chieftains and leaned his staff against a large, round rock inscribed with runes.

“I pledge my tribe to the service of High Chief Mayla Highmountain,” Lasan announced then greeted Mayla and Jale.

Mayla thanked the five generously. “That leaves Torok Bloodtotem. His village is to the north.” She explained how to find his village and hurried them on their way.

“Not even a chance to catch our breath,” Torque complained as they headed north away from the mesa.

“You’re just upset because you can’t see Babs and get beat up by her husband again,” Bellon told him. “Goblins must be much more tolerant than my people; we don’t respond so gently when we find our mates snogging another.”

“Oh, we weren’t snogging; we were f…”

“He was being polite,” Arbeth cut Torque off. “We know all too well what you and Babs were doing.”

“We Tauren also would not be so gentle if we found our mate copulating with another,” Luxraina said.

“What’s copu…”

“Use your imagination,” Bellon cut in.

“Nor Pandarens. So why did her husband not kill you?” Cinnabar asked.

“He’s my brother and Ma and Pop would disown him,” Torque responded matter of factly.

“You were shagging you sister-in-law?” Bellon was horrified.

“Hell yea, she was my wife before he stole her from me and she divorced me,” Torque explained.

“Oh, my god; I don’t think I want to hear anymore,” Cinnabar muttered.

“Me neither,” Bellon agreed.

“That has to be one of the grossest things I’ve heard in a very long time,” Arbeth moaned.

“I think I might kill Torque after Billy has taken his pound of flesh.” Luxraina shook her massive head. She urged her kodo to pick up speed if for no other reason than to ensure the conversation did not continue.

Report 14: Day 35: Goblins are Stupid and Harpies Stink.

The report encapsulated the events of the past week in Highmountain. He asked for an update on Vowrawn’s arrival and noted that there was no word on Lord Hypocritus. He sent the report off with accompanying videos.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang of five becomes six and they take on a bunch of crazed Taurens.  
> Billy receives news that another negotiator is on his way.  
> Billy dies yet again in a battle against a demon. All is right with the world.

The road they travelled seemed to be a main thoroughfare through Highmountain: busy and maintained. Their second day travelling, the road began to rise gently through an ever narrowing valley. They met very little in the way of threats and stopped several times to fish in the river parallel to the road. The salmon would make a nice change to their diet.

About mid afternoon, they paused when they heard the roar of several powder rifles. There seemed to be no battle going on but they advanced cautiously.

“Hemet Nesingwary,” Cinnabar muttered when they saw a camp of 10 tents. “Let’s go around.”

In the middle of the camp stood a Dwarf addressing an eclectic mix of adoring followers.

“Why?” Bellon asked.

“He thinks himself a great hunter,” she explained. “I’ve met him and his son before. He believes his worth as a hunter hinges not on the craftiness of his quarry but the quantity.”

“I’ve heard of him,” Luxraina added. “Wrote a book, didn’t he?”

“Yes, I read it; pure drivel.” Arbeth shook her head. “He has no respect for the creatures he hunts.”

“My group and I ran into him in the Outlands in Nagrand. He kept sending us out to kill more creatures, for which he took credit.” Cinnabar actually growled. “Leandra, our druid, actually left our group because of it. She said that what Nesingwary was asking of us was murder. She was right.”

“We’ve been spotted. Smile and wave,” Torque announced cheerfully waving at the campers.

Bellon waved as well. “We greet them, we tell them we’re in a hurry on urgent business, and we keep going.”

“Agreed,” the others chorused.

They rode into the camp. The Dwarf, Hemet Nesingwary, stepped forward and introduced himself. “Greetings travelers. What brings you into the wilds of Highmountain?”

“The Burning Legion,” Bellon curtly responded.

Nesingwary gave Bellon a shocked look. “What manner of being are you?”

“A busy one,” Bellon responded with a deadly smile.

“We are on the business of Shaman Thrall and Archmage Khadgar,” Luxraina answered in a more reasonable tone. “On behalf of High Chief Mayla Highmountain, we are traveling to the Bloodtotem tribe.”

“Mayla is high chief now? Well, well,” Nesingwary exclaimed. “I should pay her a visit of courtesy.”

“You should,” Cinnabar snarled, uncharacteristically impolite.

“Cinnabar, I remember you. Never forget a face. Nagrand wasn’t it?” Nesingwary gave the Pandaren a huge grin before reviewing the group. “Back then you travelled with two Humans, a Night Elf, and a Dranei; am I not correct?”

“They retired,” Cinnabar explained barely politely.

“Might you tell us how much farther to the Bloodtotem?” Arbeth asked impatient to get moving.

“Oh, about two days ride north through the path under the mountain.” Nesingwary pointed north. “This underpath is filled with kobolds. Why don’t you rest with us tonight before tackling that dangerous route? You’ll be quite safe and I might even be able to spare you a couple of talented guards to accompany you.”

“We don’t need no fucking guards,” Torque popped off. “We got us an assassin, paladin, hunter, priestess, and mage.” He pointed at each in turn.

“Oh, yes, Master Nesingwary is quite correct, the road is fraught with danger for the uninitiated,” a night elf said looking admiringly at the dwarf.

“You might get lost without an experienced guide like Hemet,” a Human urged.

“How much farther up the road is this path?” Bellon asked trying to sound friendly since everyone else in his group was miserably failing.

“About one hour,” the Gnome’s tone was serious and her eyes glowed through her helmet eyeslits. “You could go over the mountain but that would add about two days to your journey; the path under the mountain will take about three hours.” The tiny woman’s unusually deep voice seemed to echo. “You should be able to easily handle the kobolds that inhabit the tunnels.”

Nesingwary didn’t look wholly pleased at her volunteering that information, but he didn’t say anything.

Bellon tipped his hat to the Gnome. “Thank you, ma-am. Arbeth, shall we take our chances and continue on through the tunnels today or wait for tomorrow?”

Arbeth glanced up at the sun. “We have about four hours of daylight. If our friend the Gnome is correct, we’ll have plenty of daylight in which to set up camp once we’re through. Thank you for your offer, Master Nesingwary; but we must press on.”

“Sorry to hear that; are you certain you don’t need an escort? Daiva could go with you.” Nesingwary indicated the Gnome.

“No thank you,” Arbeth urged Black into a trot.

“Suffer well,” the Gnome called as the others followed their leader.

At a trot, it didn’t take them long to reach the cave leading into the mountain. Off to the left, a path wound up the side of the mountains in a direction opposite to their destination. It criss-crossed the river they had been following over increasingly rocky terraine.

“Gnomes are creepy,” Bellon observed as he studied the mouth of the cave.

“Daiva is a Deathknight,” Luxraina explained.

“She wasn’t with him before,” Cinnabar looked back as if concerned they were being followed. “I wonder why she’s with him? Uh, speak of the devil.”

Everyone turned and saw a black skeletal horse cantering their direction. On its back was the tiny figure of Daiva.

“Did Nesingwary send you to protect us?” Arbeth snapped when the Gnome reined up.

“No, I tire of his inanities. Your task is far more suitable for my talents. May I join you?” Daiva was very polite if a little unnerving.

“It wouldn’t hurt to have another tank,” Luxraina noted.

“I’ll go first,” Bellon offered and dismounted to lead Spot. His eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness. “Stay back about 20 meters with the light,” he instructed. He moved slowly listening carefully and watching for tell-tale traces of belligerent inhabitants. He heard soft footsteps up ahead, froze, and studied the shadows raising his rifle. There was a hiss and silence. He walked up to a small creature with a long muzzle. “Lux, take its head off.”

Daiva nodded in approval of the action. “That is a most wise precaution. Few think to protect their rear guard in such a manner. What sort of blade is that?”

Luxraina explained the vibroblade Bellon had made as he advanced further into the tunnels.

He was aware when Daiva joined him. “Two will see more and we will move faster,” she explained.

He watched an ethereal whip crack out and another kobold pulled into the range of Daiva’s lethal double swords. The creature’s head flew off and bounced toward the following group.

“You take the right side and I’ll take the left,” he suggested.

It took about two hours to move through the tunnels. All were glad to reach the evening light on the north side. It took Bellon a couple of minutes for his eyes to readjust to the light. They set up camp near a clear stream and enjoyed their fish dinner.

Not quite ready to be completely open to Daiva about his purpose, Bellon slipped away to send Report 16: Day 38: Deathknights. He tried to relay what Daiva had explained about having been a paladin, killed by Arthas, and resurrected as a Deathknight, and how the Deathknights broke his hold over them. He again asked for an update on Vowrawn’s arrival.

The next morning, there was a message from Keeper on his holoterminal.

CIPHER NINE, Darth Vowrawn is caught up in a powerplay with Darth Baras. Darth Baras is convinced he is the Mouth of the Emperor and as such has convinced the Dark Council to allow him to lead the war for Corellia. He has Darth Vowrawn bogged down and unable to leave. Darth Phallas has been instructed to take control of the negotiations himself. Darth Phallas is currently reviewing every report you have sent and all data we have on Azeroth. Darth Phallas is a very thorough and conscientious servant of the Emperor. Your latest report, CIPHER NINE, will be of great interest to him. You will be instructed as soon as he departs. You are to guide him to a convenient landing zone and escort him to Lady Sylvanas Windrunner.

I should like to inform you that Lt. Shalaya'loa'nuruodu was reassigned away from Dromund Kaas. I believe she was recalled to Csilla. She left no message to be passed on to you. I hope you will be able to focus on your work.

Bellon rolled his eyes. He liked Keeper; as a matter of fact, when she was Watcher Two, they had a frivolous affair. That ended when she was promoted to Keeper. Despite his former affection for her, he knew that sometimes she could be such an ass and to her the good of Empire ALWAYS came first.

They followed the path northeast, climbing into the high plains. About mid-morning, they came upon a Tauren manning a flight point. He directed them onto the path leading to the Bloodtotem village, which lay about five miles away.

They reached the village without trouble and found Mayla’s emissary to the tribe, Oakin Ironbull. He explained that the Bloodtotem, Torok in particular, admired combat prowess and that the group would have to gain the tribe’s trust. To best achieve that, he advised them to kill off the harpies that lived nearby and bring the chief the body of the highwitch.

Bellon groaned. “Well, if that’s what we have to do, let’s get to it.” He strode off in the direction Ironbull had indicated.

That evening, they made their camp at the edge of the village and washed blood and gore off themselves in a lake of cold clear water.

Under a starry night, Bellon sent his report. Report 17: Day 39: was titled More Stinking Harpies and he signed it “Bellon’dfrey’theris, civilian contractor.”

“Hi Keeper,” Torque said just before the recorder went off. “At least we haven’t run into the Burning Legion,” he pointed out.

“Always putting a happy face on things, are you?” Bellon asked cynically as he put the recorder away. “Trust no one and trust nothing.”

“Beats the shit out of hitting my head against a rock. Why are you such a grump?”

“That way I’m always pleased at the outcome,” Bellon explained.

“Looking at this map more carefully, we might have done better to go back to the Skyhorn Village and cross the mountains there,” Luxraina was looking over the map.

“There is no pass or tunnels through the mountains that way,” Daiva explained coming from the lake dripping wet. “Unless you can fly over, this is the best route.”

“How long have you been out here?” Arbeth asked the Deathknight.

“I made the error of traveling here with Hemet about a month ago. I had heard he is a great hunter; I had not heard that the greatness is in his mind alone.” Daiva started cleaning her gear.

Bellon was amazed at how tiny she was; the armor gave her the air of being about as tall as a goblin female when in fact she was smaller. Her fighting skills, however, were unsurpassed.

“We’ve got to get another male in this group,” he told Torque. “You and I are seriously outnumbered, and out gunned.”

“How do you mean out gunned?” Torque asked.

Bellon pointed at the four women, “Priestess, Paladin, Huntress, and Deathknight all with more combined experience than you or I.”

Torque giggled. “Yeah, they’d kick our asses but what a way to go.”

“And come back,” Bellon added. “Good night.”

“I’m going to try some of my slick moves on Daiva,” Torque stood.

“She’ll kill you.” Bellon got comfortable in his blankets. Moments later he heard a small explosion and a cut short cry. This was followed by Cinnabar crying out, ‘you killed him’ and Arbeth laughing.

“Repentant and contrite,” Bellon said when he heard Torque’s flapping feet.

“Don’t know what you said but I got an idea.” Torque flopped down on his bedroll.

The next morning, they passed an unguarded cage with a Drogbar in it. It called them over.

“You must be wary, all is not as it appears,” the creature told them.

“Of what do you speak?” Arbeth asked suspicious of the creature.

It nodded its head toward the north, “Go down to the village center; investigate; see for yourself.” It fell silent and sat back in its cage.

They went first to Ironbull’s tent, but he wasn’t there.

“Let’s investigate as that creature suggested,” Daiva urged heading toward the busy village center.

The Bloodtotem females were about their daily life; some were weaving or making pots and jars or tanning leather. Children sat quietly at their mothers’ sides watching the strangers.

“No braves,” Luxraina noticed.

Bellon was standing near a table, empty but for a single jar; a strange, unpleasant smell was coming from it. He wrinkled his nose and leaned toward the jar.

Cinnabar jerked him clear. “Don’t touch that!” Her alarm startled him. “It is demon blood,” she whispered.

“We should find Oakin,” Luxraina announced in a clear voice and immediately headed back toward his tent.

When they got back to Oakin’s tent, the old Tauren was there. Bellon glanced toward the cage and saw that it was empty. He shook his head.

“Torok has asked that you bring the body of the harpy queen to the altar in the cave.” Ironbull frowned, “This is an unusual request even for Torok.” He started back the direction they had come expecting them to follow with the harpy’s body.

“What is the significance of the demon blood?” Bellon asked in a hushed voice.

Both Luxraina and Cinnabar shuddered. Before either could answer, Daiva did.

“It means they have made an unholy pact with the Burning Legion and probably been gifted with demonic strength and cunning,” the Deathnight explained matter of factly. “It means, there is a demon in this village, probably in the cave we’ve been summoned to, and Ironbull is none the wiser.”

“Shit, and I thought this would be an easy day,” Torque grumbled.

“You four stay back, the Paladin and I shall engage the demon at close quarters. Torque, ensure no one attacks our rear. Arbeth and Billy, you attack with your most powerful ranged attacks. Cinnabar, you keep us all alive.” Daiva turned her head enough to indicate the cleric.

“Sound strategy,” Bellon acknowledged. He liked Daiva, she didn’t fight using the tactic of hitting something with her face before figuring out what she was up against.

“How do you know we’ll end up in a fight?” Torque asked.

“I can smell the demon,” Daiva growled.

“So can we,” Luxraina indicated herself and Cinnabar.

“Are you sure it’s not the dead harpy you smell?” Torque asked.

“One more question out of you and I’ll kill you… after we kill the demon,” Bellon warned.

Ironbull greeted a huge Tauren male whose horns spanned easily eight feet from tip to tip. His massive upper arms were bare except for red geometric-shaped tattoos around his biceps. His head, shoulders and back were shrouded in a thick, mahogany-colored mane. He carried no weapons, but there was no doubt the damage he could do with his bare hands. Most startling however were his eyes; they were a sickly bright green that almost glowed in the darkness of the cave.

Even Ironbull noticed that but tried not to react to the eerie strangeness as Torok acknowledged their arrival. He turned and lead them deeper into the cave.

“He has drunk of the demon blood; they all have,” Luxraina indicated the Tauren behind the chief. Their eyes were all the same.

Torok stopped beside a square stone surrounded by torches. “Place the harpy’s body here.” He indicated the stone and stepped back.

Bellon opened the sack and dragged out the decaying, putrid corpse. He dropped it on the altar and stepped back.

“You have done well, but there is one more test of strength you must pass.” Torok pointed across a stone bridge. “Travel that direction; you will know when you must fight.” He folded his muscular arms across his broad chest and glared at the group.

Ironbull sighed in resignation and set out in the direction indicated.

“We will fight a demon,” Luxraina whispered once clear of Torok. She rubbed her nose in distaste.

They crossed the bridge and rounded an outcropping. There stood the Drogbar that had spoken to them; he was in what appeared to be a makeshift arena.

“Close your eyes,” Daiva yelled.

Everyone responded just before a bright fire erupt from the middle of the arena; the light would have blinded them if not for the warning. The demon that arrived was over three meters tall. Its horns grew forward from its brow then arched back. Its neck was as thick as its head. It shot out balefire killing Ironbull instantly.

“Attack!” Daiva leapt toward the demon, her dual weapons already a blur; Dr. Nope was right behind her.

Holy light thundered down engulfing the demon as Luxraina charged, her sword at the ready. The demon screamed in pain.

Arbeth opened fire as Torque created a shield that would keep any of the Bloodtotem from attacking from behind.

Cinnabar was already throwing healing spells at the two tanks.

Bellon took aim and fired; but the demon moved and the shot wasn’t true. It roared and sent balefire at Bellon.

There was a flash of pain and he was floating in nether. “Oh, damn, not again.” He really wanted to hit that demon. There was a flicker of light that seemed directed toward the now hazy demon. “Hurt the demon,” he thought to himself; again the lights. He waved his hand through the nether and was aware of a sensation. “I want to live.”

He lay gasping on the cave floor.

Cinnabar stared at him in surprise; she hesitated a moment then went back to healing the tanks.

He picked up his rifle again, braced himself, aimed, exhaled and squeezed. The demon’s head snapped back, blood exploding from between its eyes. Luxraina’s hammer of justice, Daiva’s boiling blood, and an exploding arrow from Arbeth hit it almost simultaneously and it fell. Luxraina jumped forward bringing the vibroblade down severing its head. A second exploding arrow destroyed the head.

A roar of rage from behind turned their attention away from their victory. Torok and his tribe were rushing Torque’s shield.

“Follow me,” the Drogbar called running toward the back of the arena.

Bellon grabbed Torque and ran. The Drogbar was running down a hole in the rock that opened before him. The group followed hearing the newly created cave collapse behind them. They burst out in a clearing several miles from the village.

The Drogbar kept running into a dale and ducked into a natural cave. He caught his breath. “I am Navarrogg. My clan does not follow Dargrul. Thank you for saving me.”

“It seems you saved us,” Bellon pointed out. “You warned us and we found the demon blood, then you got us out of that cave.”

“Where are we?” Luxraina asked glancing out of the cave at the surroundings.

“We are still near the Bloodtotem village. We cannot leave until they are dealt with,” Navarrogg explained.

“We meaning us?” Arbeth indicated the group _sans_ Navarrogg.

Navarrogg’s craggy face seemed to smile. “No, I can help. I just need to recover my strength. They gave me something in the cage that weakened me.” He eased himself onto the ground. “I suppose I was to die at the hands of that demon; we all were.”

Cinnabar lay a hand on his stony skin. “I sense the disease. I too must rest, then I shall try to cure you.”

“What do you need?” Arbeth asked the cleric.

“Ginseng tea would be lovely right now but we have none.”

“I might,” Daiva shrugged her haversack off and began rummaging through it. “Here you go.” She handed Cinnabar a small bag.

Cinnabar hesitated before taking it. “Thank you, Deathknight.”

“In the meantime, what do we do?” Arbeth asked.

“Is that a retorquical question?” Torque asked.

“No,” Bellon answered. “What do we do? We can’t just sit here and wait.”

“The training grounds for the Bloodtotem warbraves is just over that hill.” Navarrogg pointed through the mouth of the cave.

“I have an idea. It’s been a long time since I tried it but I might be able to do a little spying.” Arbeth said.

“Where’s Dr. Nope?” Bellon asked in alarm suddenly realizing her pet wasn’t with her.

“He was killed in the fight,” Arbeth explained. She began chanting and moving her hands.

“You’re calling back Dr. Nope.” Bellon realized aloud. He lay his hands on her shoulders and willed to help her. He watched a cloudy form take shape and slowly solidify into the large spider.

Arbeth dropped to her knees and hugged her companion cooing like a lovestruck woman. She pulled some food out of her haversack and fed the revived spider. She smiled up at Bellon. “Thank you for your help. It seems you’ve finally figured out Azeroth.”

He scratched the spider’s back. “Yeah, I think I have; but I don’t think it’s just Azeroth. Some of it is me."

“You have the power within you,” Luxraina told him. “You always have; that’s why you are so good at what you do.”

Bellon looked at his hands. “So Barena was Force sensitive.” He wondered if he could do more.

“Who?” Luxraina asked noticing a sadness in her otherwise stoic comrade.

“My sister,” Bellon said.

“You have a sister?” Torque asked surprised.

“Had… She’s dead, truly dead.” He walked away not wanting to talk anymore.

He was leaning against the cave wall opening staring into the distance when he felt a puff of breeze on his cheek. He would have ignored it if it hadn’t come from inside the cave. He smiled when he understood that wasn’t a breeze; someone was using the Force. He looked back at the group. Arbeth sat silently on the ground beside her recovering spider. She was not moving.

The sun was lowering into the west when Arbeth stood up and reported she had reconnoitered the training grounds. Everyone gathered in the mouth of the cave as she drew out a map in the dirt.

“Tomorrow, we attack.” Daiva announced.

“Tomorrow, we end the demon taint.” Luxraina agreed.

“Tonight, we eat, rest, and regain our strength,” Cinnabar suggested with a matronly tone.

“Yes, Mom,” Torque snarked rolling his eyes.

Report 18: Day 41: Died, AGAIN. Refer to the holorecording. Fought a demon, got squished, resurrected, fought some more, won the day. This world is crazy. The people are surprisingly resilient considering the struggles they face. It is an intriguing observation for me: the Jedi profess inner peace as the path to the Force and the Sith profess the powerful emotions anger and fear are the path; the people here use neither and are extremely strong in the Force, probably more powerful than any Jedi or Sith.

Any update on an ETA for Darth Phallas?


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy receives word another Sith is on his way to negotiate a treaty with Sylvanas; this one sounds promising.  
> The enemy of an enemy becomes an ally.  
> Billy learns something about himself and he's not sure he's pleased about it.

Bellon woke to find he had received a message from Keeper; Darth Phallas would arrive in two-weeks time and upon arrival would contact Bellon personally for landing coordinates. “You are to ensure Darth Phallas reaches Lady Sylvanas Windrunner,” was tacked on as if it were his fault Hypocritus was an idiot who was easily derailed from his mission.

Anyway, what the dossier on Darth Phallas said and his diligence in reviewing Bellon’s reports were encouraging signs. However, he decided not to notify the Banshee Queen about Phallas’ arrival until the Sith was actually on his way to meet her.

As the group ate their morning meal, he perused a map of the High Mountain area. He felt a remote high plain would be the best landing site. From there, Torque could open a portal to wherever Sylvanas was; Torque and Arbeth were able to track her whereabouts through their professional connections. He marked a promising location on the map then carefully folded it into his haversack.

They hefted their weapons, and set off following Navarrogg. They didn’t have far to go, out of the hollow where the cave was hidden then about a mile through thick woods. They crouched undercover of brush on the edge of a road that paralleled a small river. Along the river bank and up an escarp on the opposite side were the warbraves of the corrupted Bloodtotem tribe.

Navarrogg pointed at a path leading up into the rocks on the opposite side of the river. “Torok should be up there. That is one way to reach him, the most direct. There is another trail leading up to the part of the camp that is on this side of the river; that is where you should find Torok’s son, Marok. The two camps are connected by that bridge.” He pointed at a suspended rope bridge between two outcroppings.

“I am concerned about killing off all the Bloodtotem. It must be agreed now that only Torok, his son, and his lieutenants shall suffer true death. Otherwise it would be genocide and I cannot condone that,” Luxraina announced. Cinnabar nodded her agreement.

“It is agreed,” the others assured.

“Take out the bridge and isolate the groups or at least force them to respond the long-way around,” Bellon suggested.

“I will take Cinnabar and Torque and go up the west path and kill Marok; you, Luxraina, and Arbeth go up the east path and kill Torok,” Daiva said. “Arbeth, do you have burning arrows?”

“Of course.”

“Good, fire the bridge as soon as you hear us attack.” Daiva took the Pandaren and Goblin and started toward the west path keeping low and quiet in the thick woods.

“What about me?” Navarrogg asked.

“You and Dr. Nope keep anyone from coming up the path behind us,” Bellon said just as a barrage of arrows left Arbeth’s bow silently killing a group of Tauren at the river’s edge.

The three rushed from the trees and waded across the shallow river. They took cover in the rocks on the other side before anyone came looking for those they attacked.

They had cover up to the base of the path and the two guards standing there. The guards were hunched over what seemed to be a game drawn in the dirt. Bellon drew his knives and crept up on the unsuspecting pair. He struck both simultaneously with enough speed that neither had time to realize a blade had entered their lunges. They died silently.

They started up the path with Luxraina in the lead; Arbeth and Bellon had their bow and rifle at the ready. Two more Taurens were silently dispatched before they reached the top of the path. They scrambled up into the rocks to get a better look at the camp layout.

“There’s Torok,” Bellon pointed and took aim. The signal to attack was a blizzard of ice in the opposite camp. Bellon fired a single shot and dropped Torok as Arbeth sent a hail of burning arrows into the bridge. Luxraina was already in the middle of the camp swinging her sword and calling on the Holy Light to smite her enemies.

This camp was apparently smaller than the one the others were attacking. Arbeth and Bellon found positions from which to fire at Taurens across the ravine, while Luxraina ensured Torok and his lieutenants would never get up.

When Daiva signaled the all clear, they fled back down the path having to kill again those they had killed once.

“Do you think that they are free of the demonic taint now that they have died?” Torque asked once back in the hidden security of the cave.

“Only time will tell,” Cinnabar answered.

“So now what?” Torque asked.

“We cleanse them of the demonic taint,” Cinnabar said.

“How do we do that?” Bellon asked.

“Only Cinnabar and I can accomplish that; we must destroy the demon blood and cleanse those Taurens we can.” Luxraina pointed up at the camp across the river. “I have done what I can for those. Now we must help the villagers.”

“You’re not going alone,” Bellon stood and shouldered his rifle. Daiva stood as well. “Besides, we left all our gear in the camp back there. We have to get it.”

“We will meet you back here, Navarrogg,” Arbeth told the Drogbar. “Keep this place safe, please.”

“I will do that. When you return, we will travel to my settlement. My people must know I am well and I must tell them what happened here.” Navarrogg settled down becoming part of the cave.

The road along the river led back to the village through the area they had cleaned out of harpies. They kept to the forest as long as possible and stopped at the edge of the Tauren village and listened. They could hear the sounds of children and the murmur of voices.

“Let’s try not to kill anyone,” Cinnabar suggested. “We do not want to traumatize the little ones.”

“How do we destroy the demon blood without getting it on us or anyone else or spilling and stuff?” Torque asked.

“I have an idea,” Bellon smiled at Torque. “You freeze the entire village, then we go in and get the blood.”

“No don’t touch it or the containers,” Luxraina warned. “Freezing the village is a good idea. Then Cinnabar and I shall cleanse the blood.”

“That will take a lot of mana,” Daiva noted. “And a lot of time.”

“While the villagers are frozen, the rest of us will bind them up,” Arbeth suggested.

“Now that you’ve all had your say, I need to make one tiny point.” Torque spoke up. “I can only freeze so much at any one time. It ain’t like I’m Mr. Freezie and can fire these spells off one after another; It takes mana, which I got, and time, which we don’t got.”

“I can immobilize several for a time,” Daiva pointed out.

“I have a stun shot I can use,” Arbeth added. She looked up at Bellon.

“Don’t look at me. I’m an assassin, not a temporarily-disable-them-until-they-learn-their-lesson.”

“Then you start gathering anything to bind them and tie them up,” Arbeth smiled at him.

“Sounds good. Torque, fire off your spell when you’re ready.” Bellon patted the goblin on his head.

Torque took several bottles of blue liquid out of his haversack and set them on the ground. He then began chanting and weaving his large hands in an intricate pattern. The chant ended when he shot both hands out toward the camp. A blast of icy air swept back chilling everyone. Torque grabbed a bottle and downed it in one gulp. He immediately began a second incantation to aim at another area of the village.

Everyone else rushed from the trees. Daiva and Arbeth stunned anyone the spell had missed. Bellon snatched up anything he could to bind the residents. Luxraina and Cinnabar began searching for the demon blood; when they found it, they called on divine power to nullify it turning it to a harmless red liquid.

They repeated the process several times through the village and the cave where they had fought the demon the day before. In the cave, they found a cache of barrels of demon blood, which the paladin and cleric cleansed.

When they were satisfied they had accomplished their task, they returned to their original camp and gathered their gear. The three magic users, despite the replenishment of mana through the use of the liquid, still looked drawn and weary. Arbeth, Bellon, and Daiva packed up and loaded all the gear. It was a relief to ride back to Navarrogg’s cave.

“We will travel to my settlement in the morning,” he told them once he saw the exhausted state of the three.

Torque smiled wanly and curled up to fall immediately asleep. Cinnabar and Luxraina settled down to pray and meditate. Bellon, Arbeth, and Daiva set to cleaning their weapons and armor; in the background was the murmur of the two religious and the raucous snore of the goblin.

“Do you think it will work?” Bellon asked.

“I hope so,” Arbeth sighed. “I would hate for all that work to be for naught. How long do you think it will take before we know?”

“Until they figure out we are to blame and they’re still angry at us due to the demonic influence,” Bellon said. “We should try to get word back to Mayla about what happened here. She’s counting on their help to defeat Dargrul and that isn’t going to happen.”

“Perhaps I can help there,” Navarrogg said. “I will have a better sense after I talk to my people. We do not, as I said, support Dargrul and you have been a huge help to us. I believe I might be able to convince my people to support Chief Highmountain.”

“That would be huge,” Arbeth noted. “Especially with your ability to move through rock.”

Daiva chuckled, “Flank him in his own cave.”

“It’s my turn to cook,” Bellon said standing. “I better get to it. We all know how grumpy Torque is when he’s hungry.”

Report 19: Day 41: Demonic influences. As noted in my previous report, we were sent to recruit a tribe to assist the high chieftain of High Mountain. What we found were a bunch of Taurens driven violently mad by ingesting demon blood. This rage is one that can’t be controlled except by the demon whose blood was ingested. We killed him yesterday. We spent today trying to ‘cleanse’ the tribe of this taint. We assassinated the chief, his son, and his lieutenants. Then using the abilities of our two healers, attempted to cure the remaining tribe of the disease and destroy the blood they were drinking. The technique used to accomplish this can be observed in the attached recording.

It is a pleasure having Daiva in the group. She has a working knowledge of tactics and believes in having a plan of action before attacking. Though new to our little group, she has already gained the respect of all of us. She laid out a basic and simple plan for today’s battle and it worked like it a charm. Perhaps it was charmed; on this planet you never know.

He sent the report then leaned back against the cave wall. He thought about his experience with death the day before. It seemed he had willed himself back to life. Cinnabar hadn’t resurrected him, and he hadn’t spoken to the winged entity. There was no doubt in his mind that he had been enveloped by the Force. But he was supposed to be Force blind; Force sensitive Chiss are extremely rare, or so it was believed.

He relaxed and tried to feel his body, each muscle and tendon and organ. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for but figured he would know if he found it. He wondered if on Azeroth the Force insinuated itself into every living being. He couldn’t discern anything out of the ordinary. He could smell the remnants of their meal and the pungency of the group after a day of sweating in armor. He could hear the soft purr of Arbeth and the rumbling of Luxraina’s deep-chested breath as they slept. He could feel the vibrations through the earth as a distant herd raced across the rocks.

His eyes snapped open. It wasn’t a distant herd, it was an army of ants carrying crumbs from around the fire pit to their nest. He shouldn’t be able to feel that.

“What concerns you?” Daiva asked softly so as not to disturb the others.

“I’m not supposed to have a connection to the Force, Magic as you call it here; but apparently, I do. It is unsettling.” He admitted.

The diminutive Deathknight plopped down in front of him. “As it was pointed out to you yesterday, you have used Magic, the Force, every time you fire that weapon of yours. You channel it through the weapon into the projectile increasing the accuracy, the range, and the power of each shot, as Arbeth does with her arrows.”

“Are you suggesting I can shoot fire out of my rifle?” Bellon asked mockingly.

“Yes,” Daiva answered confidently. “You don’t know how, do you?”

“How could I if I can’t?”

Daiva rolled her eyes. “When you were born, could you read?”

“No.”

“But you can read now,” Daiva pointed out.

“I was taught.”

“Exactly. When I was alive, I was a paladin like Luxraina. As a Deathknight, I lost my connection to the Holy Light and had to be taught a new way. In time and with practice, I became as powerful with the Magic of death as I was with the Magic of life.” Daiva held up her hand and a red, pulsing light appeared. She held it for a moment then shook her hand; the red light dissipated. “To what in the universe do you feel an affinity?”

Bellon frowned. Daiva went on, “Arbeth connects to nature, Torque to frost and lightening, Luxraina to the Holy Light, Cinnabar to the divine, Navarrogg to the earth, me to the heart.” She watched him expectantly. When he took too long, she smiled. “Think about that, for it is your starting point.” She stood and turned into her bedroll.

Bellon looked at his hands thinking about her question. Could he learn to channel the Force, like a Sith? What would happen if his superiors found out? Would they send him to Korriban? Would the ability follow him away from Azeroth? To what in the universe did he feel an affinity?

“Physics, hard science,” he told himself crawling into his own bedroll.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little down time for the gang, except Arbeth.  
> Even adventurers need to catch their breath.

Bellon didn’t sleep well and woke up cranky. His night had been plagued by dreams filled with astrogation and navigational computations, geometric and algebraic equations, physics and quantum physics theory and laws, energy versus speed versus mass, biology, chemistry, and every form of math or science he had ever studied.

“You look like Hell,” Torque noted.

“And you’re still ugly,” Bellon countered.

“Touchy, touchy. What’s the matter, been too long since you got laid?”

Bellon pulled out his blaster pistol and shot Torque.

“Billy,” Arbeth wailed. “We don’t have time for this.”

Navarrogg stared wide-eyed and in shock, uncertain how to respond. Cinnabar was horrified but did an immediate resurrection on the goblin.

As Bellon turned away he saw Daiva watching him, her mouth curled at the corner in an odd if worrisome smile.

“I take it you had a revelation,” she suggested softly.

“Facts and science, I am grounded in the laws of the universe, not the mysticism.” He started packing his gear into his bottomless backpack.

“And therein lies your power,” she told him. “You channel those laws into everything you do amplifying its effects.” She shouldered her back pack and started for the cave opening.

Torque was sputtering and swearing. “Well you should learn to watch your mouth,” Luxraina was chastising him. “That was a totally disgusting comment. I’d have killed you too if you had said that to me.”

“Er, well, we should get moving, it will take the better part of the day to reach my home cave.” Navarrogg started out of the cave. The others followed.

The journey was uneventful and they arrived at Navarrogg’s clan late in the afternoon. The group sat down near the cave opening to enjoy the evening sun while Navarrogg met with his clan. They could hear the low grumbling voices but didn’t understand the language.

The sun was setting when Navarrogg approached, flanked by two large Drogbar. “It is decided, we will stand with Mayla Highmountain to drive the Burning Legion from our land,” he told them. “In the meantime, enjoy the hospitality of my clan.”

Bellon’s report, Report 20: Day 42: explained Navarrogg’s clan.

The next morning, the party in the company of Navarrogg started the journey back to Thunder Totem. They first headed west away from the Bloodtotem lands. The route carried them up higher into the mountains. They were looking for a good camp ground when they met a Night Elf dressed in mail armor carrying a bow and accompanied by an owl.

His eyes fell immediately on Arbeth and Bellon; after a moment he nodded his head. “Hunters,” he greeted.

Arbeth responded with her name and asked what he was doing out here alone. His stated he was a watchman for Trueshot Lodge, a Ranger refuge about two miles up the road and suggested Arbeth and Bellon might want to report in there. However the land was sacred to rangers and the others not welcomed.

“They aren’t welcomed, I’m not welcomed,” Arbeth announced flatly and turned to leave.

“Wait,” the guard stopped her. He hemmed and hawed. “It will be permitted for all to go but the others may not enter the lodge.”

Arbeth accepted that and started up the path. The group climbed the steep path and shortly after came to a log building in a clearing. The place was crawling with people, all apparently rangers, and their pets. Around the outside of the building were a number of activities: leather working, smelting, target practice, ranged weapons training.

As the rest of the party set up camp at the edge of the clearing not far from the flight master, Arbeth, Dr. Nope, and Bellon went to the lodge proper. Bellon could feel curious eyes on him.

“I’m not a ranger,” he whispered to Arbeth.

“They think you are. We’ll just see what they have to say.” She led him into the lodge building proper. “Besides, you can track and shoot a rifle like a ranger.”

They stopped in the doorway and took in the surroundings. It was T-shaped with vendors off to the left, an altar-like structure in front of them, and a large wall map to the right. Arbeth approached a Blood Elf standing near the altar and introduced herself.

“You have answered our summons hunters?” the elf asked leadingly.

“Actually, we were heading back to Thunder Totem and met a guard on the trail. We didn’t know this place existed until he directed us here,” Arbeth answered.

The elf unrolled an old scroll; there were numerous ranged weapons depicted on it with information about each written beside it. “These are the bow Thas’dorah Legacy of the Windrunners, Hati’s Bond, and Talon Claw.” she pointed at three. “Others have gone in search of the rest. They are artifact weapons of great power and will help defeat the Burning Legion as well as keep these artifacts out of demonic hands. The Unseen Path asks that you each choose one and bring it back. It will be yours to keep and use.”

Bellon read the write-ups with Arbeth and pointed at the bow Thas’dorah, “That would suit your style of fighting to a tee.”

Arbeth nodded her agreement. “Where do I start?” she asked the elf.

“It is located on the Burning Shore” the Bloodelf smiled happily. “There is a portal to Dalaran on the mezzanine.”

Arbeth turned to Bellon. “I’m going after that. The rest of you see to it that Navarrogg reaches Mayla safely. We’ll meet back here.”

“Be careful,” he told her and patted her shoulder as she and the spider headed for the mezzanine.

“And you sir?” the Bloodelf asked.

“I’m happy with my rifle, thank you.” He spun on his heels and left.

“So what was that all about?” Torque asked when Bellon returned to the camp. “And where’s Arbeth?”

“This group, the Unguided Path or whatever, wanted us to go after artifact weapons to help fight the demons,” Bellon explained unslinging his rifle and leaning it against a tree. “Arbeth decided she’s taking them up on the offer and going after the Magnificent Bow of Bad-assery or something like that. We can leave the mounts and fly to Thunder Totem to deliver Navarrogg to Mayla. We’ll meet her back here.”

“How long will she be gone?” Cinnabar asked.

Bellon shrugged. “By the description of what she has to do, a couple of days, if she’s successful. They sent her via portal back to Dalaran; from there she has to go to the Burning Shore.”

“The Burning Shore?” Luxraina gasped. “That is the heart of the Burning Legion staging area.”

“I should be with her,” Cinnabar started for the lodge.

Bellon stopped her. “She has to do this alone. They wouldn’t allow you to join her. They wanted me to go after some pig sticker or such.”

“Why would you want to do that? You already have the DeKidt Mark-1 Silent Fart Rifle of Death.” Torque pointed out.

Bellon snorted a chuckle. “Exactly.”

As the moon rose to the east, he sent out Report 21: Day 43: explaining about finding the Hunters’ Lodge and Arbeth’s quest and why some viewed him as a Ranger and explained why he wasn’t. One thing he found out while in the lodge with Arbeth was that most Rangers had numerous pets while Arbeth had only Dr. Nope.

After a substantial breakfast, the six mounted hippogryphs and headed for Thunder Totem. The creatures were strong and fast and the three-day hike was reduced to a 6-hour flight. They accompanied Navarrogg to Mayla’s hall and witnessed his pledging his clan to serve her in the up-coming war with Dargrul.

“What would you have us do for you now?” Luxraina asked the High Chief when the ceremony was done.

“Continue to root out the Burning Legion as you did with the Bloodtotem. I will be in touch with you when we are ready to attack Dargrul in his home,” she told them.

Report 22: Day 44: was sent from Thunder Totem with information about the ceremony. The next day they returned to the lodge in the northern mountains.

Arbeth and Dr. Nope were already at the camp, beaten and bruised but very happy. She held up a long bow, Thas’dorah Legacy of the Windrunners; it was engraved with runes and had three sockets where artifacts could be set to increase its abilities. She wouldn’t let Cinnabar heal her before she showed them how well it worked. The group tromped up to the firing range and watched her fire off several arrows with unfailing accuracy.

“I don’t get the difference,” Bellon frowned. “You could do that before.”

“But all the shots are grouped in the bullseye, not just around it,” she pointed out. “It makes me as accurate as you, Billy. Oh, and watch this.” She fired off what appeared to be a rather innocuous shot and the target blew up leaving shredded straw and cloth. She grinned proudly.

“Woo-hoo, between Billy’s fart rifle and your bad-ass bow, those demons don’t stand a chance,” Torque danced about happily. “How come none of us have been invited to go after such a totally awesome weapon of demon destruction?”

Cinnabar pulled a book out of her haversack. “I have mine.” It too was engraved with runes on the cover with three sockets along its spine. “It makes my healing more potent with less stress on me.” She slipped the book away. “I’m sure your class bosses will be getting in touch with you soon.”

“I’m happy with the sword Billy made me,” Luxraina said.

“I sure would like a bad-ass staff that I could make badassier,” Torque countered turning back to the camp.

“You have one,” Bellon indicated Torque’s staff festoned with wires and contacts.

“That’s bad ass. I want badassier.”

“I put off my quest for an artifact weapon,” Daiva explained. “I wanted to get a better understanding of what we are up against to make a more informed decision upon which I should procure.”

“What’s procure?” Torque whispered to Bellon.

“It means to get. You know if you didn’t know the arcane language of magic and all those spells, I’d think you were stupid,” Bellon told him.

“Nah, just lazy,” Torque grinned. “Why do you think I’m a mage? It takes too much sweat to be a fighter or such.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new negotiator arrives. A Sith meets a Deathknight. What could go wrong?

The next morning, Arbeth and Bellon reviewed the wall map in the lodge and decided to follow up on a lead of demons farther to the west. They made sure they were stocked up on supplies and set off following the road that led west. Over the next eleven days, they pretty much cleared the area of any demons and their influence.

They were back at Trueshot Lodge when a human in richly colored robes flew in and approached the camp. Bellon was there alone at the moment.

“I am Harmon of Kirin Tor; I am looking for Torque Sharpshiv.”

“He went to the privy,” Bellon explained and indicated the human get comfortable to wait.

It wasn’t long before Torque sauntered into the camp whistling.

“You got a visitor, Torque,” Bellon called.

Harmon greeted Torque and told him that Archmage Khadgar wanted to meet with him immediately in Dalaran at the Hall of the Guardians. He was here to escort Torque there.

“Maybe this is your chance to get you’re bad-ass staff,” Bellon suggested happily.

“I’ll miss meeting Dearth Phallic,” Bellon protested.

“Darth Phallas and no you won’t; I’ll wait here with him until you get back. I need your delicate portal skills to get us to Sylvanas.”

Torque packed his backpack and happily followed Harmon.

“Be careful; I wouldn’t want you to die permanently before I have a chance to kill you again,” Bellon called.

Torque snorted and waved dismissively before stepping through a portal Harmon made.

Bellon explained Torque’s absence when the others returned.

“So what do we do without a mage?” Cinnabar asked a little concerned.

“We press on,” Daiva told her.

“Well, actually, Darth Phallas is due to arrive in three days and I should be at the landing zone to guide him in,” Bellon explained.

“I want to see this,” Arbeth said excitedly. “Ever since the night you arrived, I’ve wanted to see a roaring light up close.”

“Where do you plan to meet this Darth Phallas,” Daiva asked.

Bellon pulled out his map and showed them the area he had picked out.

“It will take us a couple of days to get there if we don’t run into too much trouble,” Luxraina noted. “We should leave immediately.”

Everyone agreed; they packed up their camp, mounted, and took the north path out of the mountains. It proved wise to have departed when they did. The morning they were to meet Phallas, they ran into a group of marauding demons that took them half the day to finish off.

They were several hours from the landing site when Bellon’s commlink beeped; Darth Phallas was in orbit waiting for the landing coordinates. “We’re almost there, My Lord,” he responded. “Ran into a little trouble that slowed us down this morning. I will contact you once I’ve arrived at the landing site.”

Arbeth was looking up at the bright blue sky hoping to see the space ship. The other three didn’t seem quite so eager but they didn’t seem to be apprehensive either.

They picked up their pace arriving at the landing site three hours before sunset. Bellon immediately sent Darth Phallas the coordinates. They set up camp as they waited.

“There,” Bellon pointed at a fireball in the sky. The ship was entering the atmosphere.

Arbeth was nearly dancing and clapping; Dr. Nope was cringing back into the surrounding trees. Daiva loosened her swords just in case. Not sure what to expect and picking up on Bellon’s caution, Luxraina and Cinnabar fell back with Dr. Nope.

It was another hour before the ship-to-shore shuttle extended its landing gears, folded it’s wings, and settled gently in the grassy meadow. The loading ramp extended silently, a door opened, and a tall man in black and red robes strode down. As soon as he cleared the ramp, it retracted and the vessel lifted off.

“What the hell is that?” the Sith demanded immediately noticing Argos hanging in the western sky. “That was not on our sensors.”

“That is Argos, the home planet of the Burning Legion,” Daiva explained.

“My Lord, I am Cipher Nine; these are my travelling companions, Daiva Springday, Arbeth Williams, Luxraina, and Cinnabar. Darth Phallas,” Bellon introduced.

The group studied one another uncertainly. Darth Phallas at last nodded as if in approval. “You are covered with the glory of battle, I see.”

“As I said, we met a company of Burning Legion troops this morning.” Bellon indicated their camp site. “It’s late; we’ll head back to civilization in the morning. It will take a couple of days.”

Phallas nodded and indicated Bellon lead the way. Luxraina and Cinnabar met Bellon and leaned in close. “He reeks of fell magic,” Luxraina noted.

“The Sith draw on the dark side of the Force, not unlike Daiva” Bellon explained.

“You don’t trust him,” Cinnabar noted.

“I don’t trust any Sith; it was because of the Sith my family is dead. But their Dark Council rules the Empire; they are a necessary evil.” Bellon shrugged. “There are some who are honorable and conscientious.”

“He seems reasonable enough,” Luxraina noted glancing over her shoulder. Phallas and Daiva were conversing beside the campfire.

“Is there a problem, Cipher Nine?” Pallas called.

“No, my lord; just deciding whose turn it is to cook,” Bellon returned to the campfire and started prepping a stew from their supplies for the evening meal.

“You are a lucky man to be alone in the company of all these charming females,” Phallas winked at Bellon.

Bellon cocked a half-hearted smile then laughed at Arbeth. She was hopping about happily watching the spaceship’s contrail disappear.

“That was so—o-o exciting,” she squealed like a delighted child. “I should very much like to ride on one of those one day.”

“I cannot imagine there is any place for a Ranger among the stars,” Daiva commented hopping up on a log and adjusting her weapons to get comfortable.

“Uh, I saw some deer back in the wood,” Cinnabar commented. “Arbeth, why don’t you and I go see if we can kill one to supplement our depleting supplies.”

In answer, Arbeth slung her quiver over her shoulder, snatched up her bow, and gave a whistle for Dr. Nope. The huge spider skittered out of his hiding place in the trees and hurried to Arbeth’s side.

“What in the name of the Emperor is that?” Phallas demanded in surprise pointing at Dr. Nope.

“That is Arbeth’s hunting pet, Dr. Nope,” Bellon explained. “Sure he’s creepy but he’s not bad once you get used to him.”

“Oh,” Phallas relaxed then turned his attention to Daiva who was pulling her helmet off. “So, little one, what manner of being are  you?”

“Don’t call me little,” she snapped back. “I am a Gnome; you should know that, Billy addressed my kind in his reports.”

Phallas bristled a little at her strident tone then nodded. “Ah, yes, now I recall. You are what is called a Deathknight. Sounds intriguing, tell me about yourself.”

Daiva narrowed her eyes and glowered at Phallas. “Idle chit-chat is not my thing.” She turned her attention to Billy. “Are you planning to take the same route back?”

She and Bellon discussed the best route to take back to Trueshot Lodge. Phallas looked over at Luxraina. “If I recall, you are Luxraina a Sunseeker Paladin.”

“Yes,” Luxraina answered then added, “of the Blackhoof Clan.”

“And you serve the light side, correct?” Phallas asked.

Luxraina nodded. “And you, like Daiva, draw upon dark magic.”

The exchange led the two into a polite debate about the light versus dark and which was stronger.

About a half hour later, Arbeth and Cinnabar returned with a deer carcass, which Arbeth immediately strung up to drain of blood for the night. Dr. Nope hustled back to the safety of the trees away from Phallas.

Bellon noticed the spider and decided he had excellent perception; Sith are not to be trusted. He noticed Phallas was now chatting up Arbeth, who was excitedly asking questions about space travel; Phallas seemed happy to answer. This was beginning to look like a successful mission.

Before he turned in for the night, Bellon sent out a very short Report 23: Day 60: Darth Phallas arrived safely.

Arbeth was up early the next morning so that by the time they broke camp and were ready to head back to the lodge, the deer was drained and packed. The spider crouched beside her horse.

Phallas watched amazed as the entire carcass went into Arbeth’s back pack, which she hefted onto her back then vaulted onto Black with no visible strain.

“You may ride with me,” Daiva announced to Phallas holding the reins to her deathmount.

Phallas hesitated a moment as the horned, skeletal horse snorted at him. Daiva jumped, grabbed a stirrup, then pulled herself up into the saddle. She extended a tiny gauntleted hand to Phallas. He accepted it and used the Force to rise up to sit behind her.

The group set off at an easy pace with Arbeth in the lead and Bellon bringing up the rear. They traveled through the site of the battle from the day before. Carnivores and scavengers had already started picking at the bodies of the demons.

Phallas noticed some had been neatly sliced in two by blades, yet others had apparently burned to death; all were decapitated.

“You fought a force far greater than yourselves,” he mentioned and felt Daiva shrug. “I should like to see you fight,” he said hoping to get her to talk to him. The tiny woman fascinated him and he wanted to know more about her. He could sense the dark power coursing through her and knew she was his equal in the Force. “Where I come from, you would be a highly respected Sith of great power,” he flattered.

“Why would I want to be a Sith?” Daiva asked as if it were an insult. “Billy, there is the short-cut we talked about.” She pointed at a trail leading southeast.

Without a word, Arbeth turned off the road they were on and took the path. The trees closed in and the canopy hung low; the group traveled in single file. Luxraina used the vibroblade Bellon had made to lop off branches that threatened to unseat her from her kodo.

When they paused for a break at mid-day, Phallas took Bellon aside. “Your orders were not to share our technology with them.”

“Lux’s sword and this rifle are made solely from resources available on this planet,” Bellon explained. He indicated Daiva. “Her swords are equally or more powerful than the one I made Lux. We needed something that could cut through the armor and thick necks of the demons. Nothing stays dead unless you cut off and destroy the head.”

“Nonsense, dead is dead,” Phallas countered.

“As I stated in my reports, not here. You should have noticed how strong the Force is here. It permeates everything and everyone, even me,” Bellon told him.

“That is absurd,” Phallas spit. “If you were Force sensitive, you would have ended up dying on Korriban a pathetic acolyte like your sister.”

“Don’t you dare mention my sister,” Bellon growled.

The others were standing, hands on their weapons; this was not going to end well.

“I’ll teach you respect for your betters, Chiss,” Phallas warned and hit Bellon with a Force choke.

Lifted into the air, Bellon battled to catch an elusive breath. On the verge of blacking out, he dropped to the ground and collapsed on his knees; he gulped frantically for air and looked up to see Phallas wrapped in red ether while Daiva brandished one of her swords at him. He reached over and petted Dr. Nope on the head above his eyes when the spider bumped him gently as if concerned.

“We know Billy, we have fought and died together; we respect each other,” Daiva shouted angrily at the Sith. “We don’t know you. You must earn our respect. If you cannot show us respect, then you will die.” She swung the sword cutting into Phallas stomach. The body crumpled to the earth spilling its life blood.

Cinnabar was on her knees beside Bellon. “Are you alright?” she asked. He nodded in response while watching Luxraina unhurriedly resurrect Phallas.

The Paladin let the Sith lie there bleeding from his gut for a bit before healing his wound completely. “You do that again to any one of us and next time I will ensure you stay dead,” she told Phallas then spun on her heels and walked away.

Phallas looked up at Daiva, only her glowing eyes visible through her helmet eye slits. He could feel the anger emanating off her. He sensed that her attack on him had only been a small bit of her power. He couldn’t remember the last time he was bested so quickly and so completely.

No one offered him a hand up. He pushed up on an elbow then slowly sat. The experience of dying had shaken him; it was a few moments before he stood.

“Do we understand each other now?” Daiva demanded one sword still in her hand. “Answer me or I shall kill you where you stand and leave your body to feed the beasts of the forest.”

“I am Sith…” He gasped as he felt a constriction around his heart. “Yes,” he croaked. The constriction disappeared.

“You can walk the rest of the day,” the Deathknight announced and clambered back up on her mount.

Glaring malevolently at the dark stranger, Cinnabar helped Bellon up onto Spot. Once Bellon was settled on his mount, she turned to the Sith. “He said to never mention his sister. I suggest you never mention any of his loved ones or you will never see yours again.” She spun and mounted her yak.

“Billy, you take the lead, I will bring up the rear this time,” Arbeth said. She wanted to be where she could keep a watch on Phallas. Dr. Nope placed himself beside her but directly behind Phallas.

Phallas found himself with Luxraina on one side of him and Daiva on the other. Neither spoke to him but ensured he was always between them.

The rest of the day’s travel was uneventful. When they stopped for the evening, Daiva held out a water bag to Phallas. “You will bring us water from the stream.”

“I am a Sith…” he didn’t finish before he was screaming and writhing in pain.

“If you do not comply, I will ensure you suffer well,” the Deathknight growled when she released him. “You will get the water if I must ask Cinnabar to put a compulsion on you. You will not find that pleasant or dignified or respectful.”

Phallas took the water bag and strode to the nearby stream. As it filled, he watched the tiny warrior remove her helmet, shake out her long, dark hair, and shed her armor. Underneath, was a perfectly formed, tiny, woman. She was quite lovely. He continued to watch as she shed her clothes and fell into a pool just feet downstream of him.

“Water!” Luxraina shouted in his ear.

Phallas was startled back from his reverie and handed the Tauren the full water bag. It was hard for him not to keep staring at the Gnome fighter. He grudgingly admitted he admired her on many levels.

Bellon avoided Phallas, keeping to the opposite side of the campfire from the Sith. As he helped Arbeth cut up the venison for smoking, he wondered how he might be able to use the Force to protect himself. He wondered if he already did to some degree. He would talk to Daiva about it; she seemed to be the analytical one of the group.

Later while talking to her, she said she wasn’t sure how mathematics and science could be used as protection. Bellon was the only person she knew who that magical inclination. She cited the ways mages and priests and druids and others created shields for protection and suggested he think along those lines and which defenses might adapt themselves to math or science.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sith is taught humility; but shows his skill as a fighter and earns some respect.  
> Torque returns with his new staff and dazzles the Darth with his scintillating intellect.

The next morning, Daiva decided that Phallas hadn’t sufficiently learned his lesson of humility or earned their respect; she made him walk again. He was easily able to keep up with the mounted group by using the Force, but he was fully aware of how humiliating it looked. His pride was telling him that he had to assert his dominance, but he questioned if he could beat Daiva in a Force dual.

They were moving in single file along a mountain path that wound down the side; Daiva was behind him with Luxraina in front. He decided this was the moment; he spun to use the Force to throw Daiva off the trail. Before he could act, blood was erupting from every pour in his body and Daiva had dismounted. She was approaching him with both her swords raised.

“That’s enough,” a deep but female voice echoed through his head.

The bleeding stopped; spent, exhausted, and weakened he lay in the mud of blood-soaked dirt.

The huge head of the paladin came into view. “If you cannot learn to coexist, we shall have Billy call your ship to pick you up and return you home with word that there will be no alliance between our worlds. Is that clear?”

A hand helped him sit up and Bellon gave him a canteen of water. The Chiss said nothing until he had Darth Phallas back on his feet. He shook his head at the lord’s now-filthy robes. “Too bad we don’t have Torques clean-o’matic thing. Daiva, now he’s too weak to walk. You have to let him ride with you.”

“Why me?”

“I’ll take him, my kodo can easily handle the extra weight,” Luxraina hooked one of Phallas’s arms in hers and guided him to the kodo’s side. She mounted and with Bellon’s help got Phallas seated behind her. “I don’t know about where you come from, but here, allies don’t try to kill each other. If you want a successful treaty, that is a truth you must accept.”

The winding mountain trail deposited them in rolling farmlands. From higher up, farm cotes dotted the green countryside. Close up, the first farm they came to was burnt to the ground and the dismembered bodies of the inhabitants left where they were slain.

Luxraina spit. “Burning Legion.”

Cinnabar hopped down to see if anything could still be done for the family. She settled back on her heels and prayed once she established there was no help for them. “It’s been hours since they were here.”

Bellon and Arbeth combed the ground and established the attackers had come down the same path and headed off to the northeast. The second farm they came to told the same story. At the third farm, the bodies were still warm and most intact; Cinnabar and Luxraina were able to resurrect the family.

“We can’t stay,” Bellon announced. “Their tracks are less than an hour old and they are making a bee-line for that mesa.”

“I have important business to attend to,” Phallas protested.

“You won’t have anyone to negotiate with if we don’t stop the Burning Legion,” Bellon retorted.

Phallas started to reprimand Bellon for his disrespect when he felt pressure on his chest. He shot a glance at Daiva.

“Our first priority is to eradicate the Burning Legion,” she told him.

Cinnabar left food and water with the survivors and raced away with the others to catch the demons.

“This will be an opportunity for you to show us your fighting skills, if you Sith are as formidable as Billy has led us to believe,” Luxraina shouted over her shoulder to Phallas.

Bellon and Arbeth were in the lead and suddenly split off the trail at a canter, Bellon going left and Arbeth going right. Cinnabar followed Bellon while Arbeth had Dr. Nope. Luxraina with Phallas and Daiva continued right up the middle as the others got in position on the enemy’s flanks.

The company of demons and their hounds came into view of the three just as one demon dropped from a silent shot to its head and a second was hit with an exploding arrow.

Daive hit the ground running throwing out one of her ethereal lassos and pulling a demon into the range of her flashing blades. Luxraina unleashed the power of the light on the company of demons, instantly disabling some of the weaker members. Phallas shouted enthusiastically as he leapt toward the nearest demon igniting his searing-red lightsaber, which sliced easily through the body of the demon. Luxraina raced into the fray beheading any demonic creature and kicking the heads away from the bodies.

Demons roared and swung their over-sized swords and axes or rained down fel fire on their enemies. The three in their midst kept the demons too busy to worry about the two ranged weapons attacking from the side. Phallas was all over the battlefield leaping and racing from one target to the next. He shimmered red from the rage he called upon. Daiva lashed her whip around the necks of the towering demons and dragged their heads down to her level where she drove one blade to their dark hearts and opened their jugulars with the other; she was bathed in the putrid blood of the demons. Luxraina beheaded the fallen and periodically destroyed a pile of their heads with the Hammer of Justice. Dr. Nope slipped nearly unnoticed among the chaos stinging and webbing the felhounds. Cinnabar from a safe distance called upon the holy light to strengthen and heal the four in the midst of the fray.

At last all was quiet as the three humanoids stood panting amidst their handiwork. Dr. Nope settled down to suck on some of the juices of his kill. Bellon, Cinnabar, and Arbeth walked out of their hiding places shouldering their weapons.

“That was glorious,” Phallas shouted. “Too long I have spent training snot-nosed acolytes on Korriban; I had forgotten the glory of a good fight.”

“Glad we could accommodate you, my lord,” Bellon said. He knelt to study the body of the demon commander. “These are from a different battalion than those we’ve met before.”

“That is not encouraging,” Daiva grumbled cleaning gore off her blade with the tabard of one of the fallen. “We shall have to report that to Thrall and Khadgar.”

“How many battalions of demons does that make now?” Cinnabar asked nervously.

“Four,” Arbeth said. “By the last count; there could be more we don’t know about.”

“If the Empire were to invade a planet, we would send no less than two full armies. You can rest assured that for each battalion you know about, there are three more,” Phallas said.

“You speak rightly, Sith,” Daiva approved. “And you fought well. I might change my opinion of you.”

“And I of you my diminutive Amazon,” Phallas smiled and bowed his head to the Deathknight. “I should like to discuss blade technique with you if you agree.”

Daiva pulled off her helmet and returned his smile. “It would be a lively discussion.”

“If you two are done flirting, can we continue on?” Arbeth demanded then whistled for Black.

“You will ride with me, Sith,” Daiva announced and headed back for her deathmount.

Soon, the group was once again in route, this time to Trueshot Lodge. As the sun was setting, they arrived at the base of the path leading up to the hunters’ retreat. They set up camp where a glacial stream from the mountain fell into a deep pool before wandering off across the plains.

Once a fire was roaring and meat was on to cook, everyone took the time to clean their gear and themselves from the day’s occupation.

“Her size is diminutive but her form is perfect,” Phallas told Bellon as he watched the Gnome dive naked into the pool of clear icy water. “Have you bedded any of these females?” he asked.

Bellon shook his head. “No,” he answered simply and decisively. He didn’t add that his interests were still wrapped around the lithe form of a beautiful Chiss with raven black hair and hopefully safe on Csilla.

“Then there would be no jealousy should I pursue that attractive tidbit.” Phallas strode for the pool, his eyes glowing with anticipation.

“No,” Bellon told himself as he began dismantling his rifle for a good cleaning and replacement of the power core.

Cinnabar and Luxraina came back from the pool combing water out of their fur.

“Your Lord Phallas seems smitten by Daiva,” Cinnabar noted with some amusement.

“First, he isn’t mine; I don’t particularly like Sith. Two, his sexual predilections are well documented, and I am not particularly surprised. Your clothes are dry I believe,” Bellon told them.

“Well, that water suddenly heated up,” Arbeth announced walking up to the fire to warm up and dry off. Dr. Nope moved to settle down between her and Bellon. “Dr. Nope has taken a real liking to you, Billy.”

Bellon chuckled and scratched the spider’s back. “He’s not so bad once you get used to him.”

“They seem to have gone in search of some privacy to discuss fighting technique, no doubt,” Luxraina announced. “It is now clear so that you might refresh yourself, Billy.”

He stood thanking her and headed for the now empty pool; he didn’t strip until he was on the verge of the water. Thinking about Loa had caused a physical reaction he wanted to keep private. He dove into the icy water and felt instant relief.

Report 24: Day 62: Increasing Incursion of the Burning Legion. Today, we encountered a company of Burning Legion from a battalion not previously noted. I have had a conversation with Darth Phallas about the possible need for the Empire to help Azeroth with this threat before asking for help against the Republic.

In the battle, Darth Phallas impressed the others with his strength, agility, ferocity, and skill as a fighter. Daiva, herself an extremely skilled knight, noted that an army of Sith like Darth Phallas could help eradicate the Burning Legion from existence.

Addendum: I concur with Cipher Nine. We should help eliminate the demonic threat. Though I should suggest that the tensions between the Horde and the Alliance be maintained so as not to permit the inhabitants to become too strong for the Empire to control. The Force here is very powerful to the point of being almost tangible. Darth Phallas.

********

They arrived at the lodge about mid-day to find Torque waiting proudly holding his new staff, Ebonchill. As the group walked up, the goblin grinned and his staff began to glow and crackle with augmented power.

“Badass to the extreme!” he howled in glee.

“Well, too bad you missed an opportunity to show us,” Luxraina answered hopping off her kodo. “We ran into a full company of Burning Legion.”

“Aw, shit,” Torque stomped his over-sized foot. “Oh, well, I had tons of fun getting my hands on this baby, and I’m sure there are more of the green dumpsters for us to kill. Heh, Arbeth, how’d your new bow work?”

“Like a bloody charm, Torque.” Arbeth was rubbing Black down after the long climb up to the lodge.

“You the new guy?” Torque asked when he saw Phallas drop to the ground.

“This is the chap that turns people who irritate him into sheep,” Bellon quickly warned the Sith.

Phallas stopped and regarded Torque. “A unique and unusual gift,” he noted being quite diplomatic.

Torque grinned and shrugged. “I just got a knack. Good to see you too, Dr. Nope.” Torque actually hugged the spider. “Did ya miss me?”

“Like pink-eye,” Luxraina answered, to which Cinnabar and Daiva laughed.

Torque sneered. “How about you, Billy?”

“I missed not killing you. You still owe me, you know.”

“Is the only one who is happy to see me the spider?” Torque demanded. “That’s really hurtful.”

Bellon laughed and roughed his head. “We missed you.”

When Arbeth, Luxraina, and Cinnabar gave him a hug, Torque felt better. Daiva’s head bob was just as assuring.

Phallas stood over the goblin, pulling up to his full two meters. “I am Darth Phallas, aide to Darth Vowrawn of the Dark Council.”

“Yeah, I’m Torque Sharpshiv.” Torque wiped his hand on his robe and shoved it up to the Sith.

Cautiously, Phallas accepted the firm handshake. “So what now? I must speak with this Sylvanas.”

“Well, she’s with Thrall, Khadgar, and King Anduin in a secret location planning the attack on Argos. I have asked that she be told you are here, Mr. Phallic, and to send me word when she is back in Dalaran or Undercity,” Torque explained.

“That’s Phallas,” the Sith corrected almost seething.

A tiny, gauntleted hand on his arm instantly soothed him. “Torque isn’t known for remembering names. He remembers spells; that’s what’s important.”

Phallas absently patted Daiva’s hand and nodded. “Of course, my love.”

Bellon groaned and rolled his eyes. Torque chuckled at that. Cinnabar, being a romantic, sighed happily. Arbeth and Luxraina were too busy with setting up their portion of the camp to take notice of the amorous exchange of glances between Phallas and Daiva.

“Why don’t we go to this Dalaran place and wait in comfort for Sylvanas?” Phallas asked.

“Cause I just used a portal to get here today and don’t have the strength to make another,” Torque explained. “Tomorrow I’ll be able to take us anywhere; However, I think the powers that be want us to keep working up to the last minute. You ain’t the only ones to run into Burning Legion bastards.”

Once the camp was in order, Bellon and Arbeth went to the Lodge itself to find out what was going on in the world and where they should perhaps direct their efforts.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group help the dragons defend Wyrmrest Temple in Northrend; it is no small thing to have a dragon or 100 owing you a favor.  
> Billy must relay some BAD news to Keeper.

The small company had barely finished passing through Torque’s portal to Dalaran, when Harmon of the Kirin Tor approached and told them “The Dragon Aspect” urgently requested their help in Northrend; they had been requested by name. Harmon immediately opened a second portal, and the group stepped out into the snow-covered landscape before a tower. They were looking straight at a red dragon resting on its haunches.

“What do you mortals want?” the dragon demanded.

Arbeth hopped off Black and bowed. “We received news that Lady Alexstraza has requested aid. We come in response to that request,” she announced.

The dragon snorted, a puff of smoke issuing from its nostrils. It cocked its head to a Night Elf on the far side of the patio. “He’ll get you up to her audience chamber. Your mounts may be stabled within.”

They left their mounts with the stable master inside the open tower base, deposited their gear at the small alcove that was the inn, and headed outside to the Night Elf who would get them to the audience chamber over 100 meters above their heads.

Phallas was quite surprised at how warm the open area was in this frozen land.

“That is the dragons,” Luxraina explained flatly.

“How do you tell a girl dragon from a guy dragon when they’re in dragon form?” Torque asked.

“You ask very politely,” Arbeth suggested.

“How will we know which one is Alexstraza?” he asked.

“You will know,” Cinnabar informed him.

The Night Elf regarded them with half interest before turning to a couple of drakes at his side. “Colastraza, Daranos, please take these mortals to see her Immanence.”

The two drakes lowered their backs to allow the seven to climb aboard. Dr. Nope had buried himself under the cot assigned to Arbeth and seemed disinclined to associate in any way, shape, or manner with dragons.

The drakes launched off and climbed, circling the tower. They alit on the top most platform then got comfortable to await the time to return their charges to the ground.

“So that’s Alexstraza,” Torque stood at the entrance to her audience chamber and stared in awe at the statuesque, apparently female elf across the way.

The aspect of the red dragons stood straight-backed beside a richly robed apparently male elf. Her headdress included horns intricately adorned with woven gold. Her shapely figure was draped with a bolero top and sheer skirt that barely hid her form. The cloth was red silk embroidered with gold and silver.

“I can feel the power emanating off her even from here,” Phallas noted as equally awed as Torque. It was an unusual sensation for him.

“Daiva, Cinnabar, have either of you met her before?” Arbeth asked with a dry mouth.

“I have,” Daiva announced and headed across the room. She bowed before the dragon in Elf form; the others followed suit including Phallas. “Lady Alexstraza, Life Binder, we come in response to your call for aid. How may we humble mortals aid your Immanence?”

“Daiva, it is good to see you again,” Alexstraza responded with surprising cordiality.

“I am pleased to see you well too, Life Binder. May I introduce my companions?” Daiva introduced everyone to her.

“This is Krasus my consort, Kalacgos ambassador of the Blue Dragon Flight, Nalice ambassador of the Black Dragon Flight, Lord Itharius ambassador of the Green Dragon Flight, and Chromie ambassador of the Bronze Dragon flight.”

Chromie was in the form of a very tanned Gnome with platinum-blonde hair; she greeted the group with familiarity. “It’s good to see you again, Billy.”

“Uh, we haven’t met, my lady,” he explained a little confused.

“Oh? My bad.” She chuckled. “I get so confused sometime. Well in your future we will meet again and you as well, Darth Phallas.” She reached her hand up to shake his.

“Uh, pleasure is mine?” He was equally confused.

“Too bad you didn’t get to present the idea of an alliance to Sylvanas.”

“We haven’t met with her yet,” Phallas was becoming very confused and somewhat irritated.

“Oh, well, sorry about that.” The apparent Gnome giggled. “I shouldn’t have let the cat out of the bag like that. Anyway, all will turn out well in the end. You are actually here at my behest. A battalion of Burning Legion will attack Wyrmrest Temple. We wanted someone here who has dealt directly with their soldiers to help advise our tactics.”

“Well the first thing you should do,” Daiva started, “is place several contingents in hiding away from the temple so as to surround them.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to appear to be less staffed than you actually are, lure them into a false sense of superiority,” Arbeth suggested. “Look unprepared but don’t BE unprepared.”

“You have foreseen this, do you have an inkling when they will attack?” Phallas asked.

“Tomorrow mid-morning,” Chromie answered confidently. “They will come from the red dragon redoubt to our northwest.”

“That is specific,” the Sith said rubbing his jaw. “And you are sure it is a battalion?”

“Nearly 1,000 demons, succubae, hounds, and felguards,” Chromie answered. “We will defeat them but only with your help; but there is a part of this battle I cannot see; it is hidden somehow.” That obviously worried her.

“Time, time, time…” Bellon was pacing. He stopped and froze. “Isn’t the Bronze Dragon Flight the keepers of time?”

“Yes,” Chromie answered simply.

“Chromie, can you stop time?”

“Yes,” the dragon answered.

“If you stop it, can we keep attacking?” He asked.

“What are you getting at, Chiss?” Phallas asked irritated.

Chromie smiled. “Not you but the Bronze Flight can.”

Bellon’s smile broadened. “That’s what you can’t see. Let the demons attack; we and your dragons respond as Daiva and Arbeth suggested. Once the battle is at its peak, you stop time and the Bronze Flight finishes off the demons.”

Torque hopped up and down clapping. “Easy peasy! I like it.”

“So do I,” Chromie said with an uncharacteristic grim grin.

“You must completely destroy the bodies or sever the heads and destroy those,” Luxraina announced. “If you don’t, they’ll regenerate and get up to fight further.”

“Except for about half the red flight which will remain to man the Temple and keep it looking occupied, all flights are to retire to their respective redoubts until the attack,” Alexstraza announced. She pointed at Argos hanging in the western sky. “Do it in small groups so as not to be a noticeable evacuation of the Temple. You mortals rest up to be ready for the battle.”

“Well, that was weird,” Torque commented once they were back at the inn enjoying dragon hospitality.

“Why do they call us mortals?” Phallas asked.

“Because Alexstraza is tens of thousands of years old,” Cinnabar explained. “She and her ilk occupied this land before the Titans.”

Torque whistled. “That’s old.” He cocked his head. “She looks good for an older woman.” Bellon slapped him in the back of his head. “Heh.”

“Watch your mouth, goblin. If Alexstraza is angered and kills you, you will NOT regenerate,” Daiva warned.

“Can we trust the black flight and blue flight?” Cinnabar asked.

“If Alexstraza trusts them, then I trust them,” Arbeth answered.

Everyone agreed that was a wise choice.

“Oh, get a room, you two, a separate room,” Torque suddenly groused when Phallas began petting and necking Daiva.

********

One moment Bellon was shooting demons like he was at a carnival shooting booth with red, blue, green and black dragons swooping in to attack with talon and teeth; the next everyone stood amid the charred bodies of the demon army. It was disconcerting to say the least. Phallas was obviously having a panic attack; it was a unique experience watching a Sith Lord freak out; he had picked up Daiva and was hugging her like a child its teddy bear. Everyone else seemed to take it in stride.

Bellon jogged into the middle of what had been the battle to join his friends. All the dragons landed; on several, their tiniest talon was larger than even Luxraina. Bellon pried Daiva loose from Phallas and placed his hands on Phallas’ shoulders as the Sith stared up at the towering bronze dragon. Bellon wondered if he had pee’ed his robes.

The dragon began to shimmer and suddenly there stood the Gnome Chromie. “Bellon, you are a veritable genius,” she crowed and hugged his legs. “I knew I could count on a mortal to think outside the clock.”

The largest red dragon shifted into the elfish form of Alexstraza. She bowed her head. “We are grateful for your assistance. Know that the Wrymrest Accord will forever be in your debt.”

“Well hopefully those hellspawn will think twice about attacking dragons,” Torque said with a most satisfied sigh. He practically hugged Ebonchill, so satisfied was he with his new staff.

Bellon stared up at the planet Argos. “I wish that were true but I don’t think they’ll give up that easily. The need to take the dragons out of the fight for Azeroth will be more apparent to them now.” He turned his attention to Chromie. “Your gift will be necessary to help fend them off. You must see into the future to ascertain how, when, and where they will attack you.”

“I believe it is time that we joined forces with Khadgar and Thrall and all the leaders of the younger races to assault the Burning Legion in their home,” Alexstraza said with a resigned sigh. “We can no longer stand aside and consign this war to the purview of mortals.”

“Hmph,” Daiva snorted. “If I’m going to be part of that, I suppose I should have better weapons.” She looked at the blades in her hand. “I must return to Archerus and speak with the Ebon Blade. An artifact, the Maw of the Damned, might suit my purposes best. Thessarian will know where it lies. Then I shall join the assault on Argos.”

“What? You’re leaving?” Phallas asked panic in his eyes.

She touched his hand tenderly. “I must answer the call to protect Azeroth.” She started summoning a Deathgate to take her to the necropolis home of the Deathknight’s Order of the Ebon Blade.

“But we…”

“No, no, no, no,” Bellon jumped in with a sinking of the pit of his stomach. He grabbed Phallas’ arm. “You have a duty to the Emperor.”

Phallas shook free. “A duty I shall complete once I help my fairest Daiva free this world from the threat of the hell demons of Argos.”

Daiva gave Phallas a sad look. “It must be, my love. Suffer well.” She stepped through the portal.

“No!” Phallas lunged and dove through the portal just before it closed.

“Oh, shit! Shit! Shit! Shit,” Bellon went on for several minutes stomping the ground as if doing that would conjure Phallas back; his face was turning a disconcerting shade of purple. He tried using his communicator to contact Phallas; instead he heard a beep coming from behind a log Phallas had been sitting on. “Damn, now what? That horny, love-sick, besotted ass.” He glared at the dropped communicator as if it could answer him. He growled and shoved it into his haversack.

“At least your recorder is running so that your non-boss can see exactly what happened,” Torque pointed out helpfully.

“Non-boss?” Chromie asked.

“Long story,” Torque explained. “So they try again.”

“Maybe this time, they’ll send his boss, the guy who hasn’t bothered to show up yet,” Arbeth suggested.

“Darth Vowrawn, apparently he’s been purposely tied up in a battle where a rival hopes he’ll die,” Bellon growled. He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. “Perhaps that has all worked out by now.” He frowned. “Perhaps the rival has succeeded.”

Cinnabar rest a paw on his arm trying to comfort him. He had befriended her from the start and she felt a kinship to him. She didn’t like to see him so despondent.

He smiled and patted her paw. Unconsciously she had channeled a healing strength through the touch, and he did feel better for it.

“Well, where to now?” Luxraina asked.

“Let’s return to Dalaran,” Arbeth suggested. “I’m sure there’s still work for us to do while we wait for Bellon’s non-boss to send the next candidate of confusion.”

Bellon snorted. “Yeah, at some point there has to be one Sith in the entire Empire who has the wherewithal to follow through with the alliance. I’d hate to think I’ve died three times for nothing.”

“Four, you died four times,” Torque told him.

“Whatever.”

“You shall not leave before you have received the full gratitude of the Wyrmrest Accord,” Alexstraza said warmly. “You shall rest, be fetted, and receive our gifts before you leave.” She issued orders to two drakes to take the party back to the Temple.

Report 25: Day 66: Another one bites the dust. You will observe in the attached holorecording the events that led to the sudden, and may I say irresponsible, departure of Darth Phallas, which leaves the treaty as yet un-negotiated. You will also observe my efforts to stop his departure and remind him of his duty to the Empire. Would it be too much trouble to find someone with an attention span greater than a gnat’s who will follow through with the completion of this mission upon which you have burdened me? Please tell me that Darth Vowrawn is free and able to attend to the matter himself. This is getting fucking ridiculous. Well at least I didn’t die but being caught in a time stop is almost as unsettling; no, it is more unsettling. There is no consciousness during or memory of what occurred.

What the Hell did you get me into?

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy and the gang are once again helping dragons, this time, the blue dragons; but his anger could cost the group.  
> The group offer to help a bunch of Gilnean refugees.  
> Billy delivers an ultimatum to Keeper.

The party had been back in Dalaran two days, during which Bellon had spent his days walking the streets of the floating city cudgeling the response he had gotten from Keeper. Darth Vowrawn was still tied up by Darth Baras on Corellia. A message had been sent to him apprising him of the situation, but no one knew exactly where he was or how to get the message into his hands. She reminded Cipher Nine of military protocol and warned that if he continued this insubordinate behavior, he would face disciplinary action upon his return to Dromund Kaas. He had been so angry at the desertion of Darth Phallas, that no one dared be near him, not even Dr. Nope. When he approached, the spider would scuttle to hide behind his mistress.

He was surprised when Cinnabar found him near the Violet Enclave. Her touch was again soothing and healing.

He sighed and smiled. “Thank you.”

“You need to kill something,” she suggested carefully.

He chuckled and shrugged.

She took courage from that and went on, “Arbeth wants us to go to Azsuna. No one is ready yet to share space with the Worgen king.” She paused considering that sentiment. “I’ve met him, he’s really a very nice person.”

“I suppose not to those who wrested his throne and kingdom from him and are responsible for the death of his son and heir,” Bellon pointed out. “That makes Arbeth a little nervous about him.”

Cinnabar smiled shyly and nodded. “You’re right; but I’m sure you and he would get along fine, and Torque and Lux.”

“As long as none of us mention Sylvanas,” he tacked on.

She nodded. “Let’s get back to the Violet Citadel. Torque has your gear and Arbeth has Spot and we’re all ready to leave. We’re supposed to meet a blue dragon by the name of Stellagosa.”

“More dragons?” Bellon pretended shock as he fell in step beside the taller Pandaren.

Cinnabar shrugged. “Apparently Kalacgos recommended us.”

The group was waiting outside the building when the two arrived. They were with Harmon. Once Bellon nodded, Harmon formed the portal explaining it to Torque.

Bellon found it fascinating to watch how Torque would “learn” to make a portal to a new location. It turned out to be very simple. It required the latitude and longitude; there was a third figure Bellon had to think about. Hell, once he deciphered what the third figure was, Bellon figured he could calculate the coordinates of where they wanted to go and Torque could take them there without paying someone else to teach him. He wondered briefly if, with the coordinates, Torque could take them to Bellon’s ship; it was in fixed orbit.

They stepped through into a landscape of bluish growth near a pond of swirling blue ether with a huge, old, blue dragon lying in it. Around the pond were various types of undead fighting blue dragon kin and hatchlings.

The group fought their way through the attackers, who seemed to be trying to siphon the water from the pond, to another smaller blue dragon on a road overlooking the pond.

Bellon had entered the fray using his poisoned knives. He dropped down on the ground beside the small dragon and sucked in fresh air. Cinnabar had been right; killing something made him feel better, at least the physical exertion had. It had also allowed him to vent his frustration.

Arbeth was talking to the lady dragon about the situation. The elder dragon, her father or grandfather or something, had been poisoned and the magical properties of the pond were keeping him alive. Now the undead minions of the Burning Legion (damn not them again) were trying to drain off the magic and thus kill the elder.

“So what you’re asking us to do is kill dead guys?” Bellon asked. He stood and spun his knives in his hand. “Sounds easy enough.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” Torque caught Bellon’s arm. “This from the guy who always wants a plan? Man, Dearth Phallic’s departure really did unsettle you.”

“Plan, schmlan, I want to kill something.” Bellon started for the nearest potential victim.

Arbeth sighed and shook her head. “He was to work it out. Let’s go guys.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Cinnabar assured as she and Torque followed Arbeth up into the rocks where they would have high-ground advantage.

As several undead converged on Bellon, Luxraina charged into the melee shouting, “He’s going to get himself killed, again!”

Luxraina’s prophetic statement came true; both she and Cinnabar had to resurrect Bellon at least once each before the group drove off the undead attackers.

“Six, you’ve died six times; that’s more times than you’ve wanted to kill me, Billy,” Torque pointed out scowling.

“Stop it!” Arbeth barked, getting in Bellon’s face. “Stop this bullshit right now! That was reckless and stupid and nearly cost us, cost you. Phallas’ desertion is water under the bridge, spilt milk, a thing of the past. Get over it, or I’m kicking you out of the group. Got it?”

Shocked at never having seen her angry, much less so angry her morbid complexion was scarlet, Bellon nodded silently.

Arbeth ground her teeth. “You better.” She stalked off to report their success to Stellagosa.

“Ow,” Bellon barked when an oversized foot kicked his shin. “What was that for?”

“Because Arbeth’s too polite to do it and wanted to and I can’t reach your ass,” Torque explained and followed the hunter.

Luxraina shook her head as she followed the other two.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Cinnabar asked wanting to ease Bellon’s frustration.

“No, Arbeth’s right. I just have to get over it.” Bellon sheathed his knives and trudged after the group with Cinnabar at his side.

“I’m beginning to wonder if an alliance with your people might not be a good idea,” the priestess suggested uncertainly.

“I’m beginning to agree with you. Maybe I should just pack it in and go home.” Bellon kicked a body out of his way.

“We’d miss you. Besides, quitting isn’t your way,” Cinnabar offered. “You aren’t one to give up; fail by no fault of your own, perhaps, but give up, never. You will stick with this until all options are exhausted and your people call you home.”

Bellon squared his shoulders. She was right. He could be frustrated and angry about the convoluted turn of events but he wouldn’t give up. He would stick this out until Keeper gave up. He snorted to himself. She wasn’t one to give up either; between the two of them this could become a very long mission.

He picked up his pace when he saw Arbeth signal and vault up onto Black. “Where to now?” he asked once up onto Spot.

“Stellagosa said there’s a guy up this mountain who might need our help,” she explained.

They rode silently side by side for a bit. “I’m sorry,” Bellon finally said. “You’re right. I’m being a jack ass.”

“I can understand your frustration, Billy,” Arbeth assured then grinned at him. “Back to killing scumbag demons and not taking names?”

Bellon laughed. “Yeah.”

They ended up cleaning lesser demons out of an area for another dragon. By the end of the day, Bellon was feeling more himself but decided there wasn’t anything of value to report. After some time chatting around the fire, he slid into his bedroll and slept very well.

********

“Now what?” Torque asked the next morning over their breakfast.

“Arbeth’s not going to like this but there’s a village of Worgen in Val’shara which is being harassed by demons,” Luxraina explained. She pointed at the dragon. “At least that’s what he said. He also said they’d pay well to anyone who settled affairs for them.”

Everyone looked at the Forsaken. Arbeth shrugged. “Lux, you do all the talking. I’ll hang back.”

They got directions from the dragon, who also showed them the location on a map. He told them the trip would take four days, but they could spend the second night in a druid settlement along the way.

“Wait, let’s not walk.” Bellon stopped them from immediately packing up their camp for the long trek. “I think I know what Torque needs to make a portal.” He explained his theory. “It took some reviewing of his other portal coordinates, but I firmly believe the final figure is elevation above sea level.”

The blue dragon blinked. “The village you are going to is on the coast and sits at elevation 42.”

“How do we find the latitude and longitude?” Torque asked.

Bellon grinned. “With a map. You all get comfortable while I figure this out.”

He dug into his back pack and everyone else’s and retrieved several maps, most importantly, one of Azeroth as a whole. He had a chronometer, astral compass, ruler, and sextant; he sat down with the map of Azeroth and plotted the locations of Torque’s portals for Dalaran, Undercity, and Orgrimmar. Torque and Lux watched as he began drawing horizontal and vertical lines on the map of Azeroth and labeling them by degrees with the equator being horizontal zero and a measured location in the Great Sea being vertical zero.

Once he firmly placed the Burning Isles by latitude and longitude, he broke the map up into more specific lines of hours, minutes, and seconds.

Last of all, he picked a point to the east of the village and calculated its location. He’d been at this most of the day and the others sighed when he stood.

“Torque make a portal using these coordinates.” He had written the numbers in a way that matched those Harmon and Torque used.

Torque shrugged and began the spell. The portal formed. “Okay, it looks like it doesn’t come out in rocks or something. Who’s going to try it out?”

“I will,” Cinnabar bravely volunteered. “If I’m seen by a villager, they will be less startled.” She squared her shoulders and stepped through. Mere seconds later she returned. “It worked! I came out on a road and the village roofs are visible. I really didn’t expect it to work. Forgive my doubting you, Billy.” She ran to her gear, grabbed her yak’s reins and hurried back through.

“Well, this ain’t gonna stay open for ever. Let’s get a move on people,” Torque ordered indicating Bellon to hand him Spot’s reins and to drive his trike through the portal.

They stepped out as the evening sun was lowering to the horizon over the ocean to the west. The walls of Black Rook Hold loomed over Bradensbrook and the surrounding farm land. They were on the outskirts of the village; a farmer paused in his field work and watched the group head down the road.

Arbeth pulled her cloak hood up over her face and rode Black at the back of the group while Luxraina led the way into the village. Bellon rode beside Luxraina; this would be the second time he would encounter Worgen. They intrigued him.

A human, who identified himself as the mayor, greeted them with a challenge.

“Darnagos told us you needed help,” Luxraina said keeping her hands clear of her weapons.

Several villagers with rakes and scythes flanked their mayor ready to defend their homes.

“We don’t take too kindly to strangers,” the mayor said eyeing the well-armed group.

“Just tell us what you need and we will see to it.”, Bellon offered. “You needn’t see us until we’re done.” The mayor’s accent was similar to some Imperials from outlying areas of Dromund Kaas, not as refined as those from Kaas City. He also noticed that the village was occupied by humans and wondered where the Worgen were.

The Mayor considered the offer then pointed down a road leading farther west. “Name’s Heathrow. They’re that way.”

“Billy DeKidt, this is Luxraina Sunseeker.”

The mayor nodded his acknowledgement. “Demons arrived about a week ago and have been raiding our fields, terrifying our children and elders, and even kidnapped and murdered a couple of folks.”

“Do you have any idea how many there are?” Bellon asked.

The mayor conferred a moment with the others standing by him. He shook his head. “A lot, several companies at least.”

“Hm, we might need to reconnoiter the situation.” Luxraina glanced at Bellon, who nodded his agreement.

He addressed the mayor. “It would be nice if we had a relatively secure place to set up camp. We’ve been fighting two days straight and would like to rest as well as be able to lay out a plan of action.”

“No place around here is secure,” one of the other men grumbled. “But you can hold up in my barn for the night. It’s empty since those bastards stole all my livestock. Just don’t accidentally burn it down. My wife might actually sleep tonight knowing you’re there. Follow me.” He started off expecting them to follow.

He led them southwest out of the village to his farm. He unlocked the barn door and lit a lantern, then silently left them. Bellon noticed a woman watching cautiously from behind the curtains of the house.

“I thought you said this was a village of Worgen.” Bellon noted. “They all look human to me.”

“Worgen are humans who were bitten and cursed,” Arbeth explained rubbing down Black as he munched hay in a proper stall. “The Worgen you met in Shadowfang is the worg form they take. I don’t know the details but they found some way to mitigate the curse so that they can shape-shift at will.”

“What’s mitigate?” Torque asked Bellon.

“Lessen,” he whispered back.

“I’ve met King Greymane in both forms,” Cinnabar said. “Lord Crowley too; I watched him go through the transformation. It looks really painful because their bodies are drastically changed.”

Bellon shuddered remembering his own body changing shape and it wasn’t as drastic a change as from human to Worgen.

“I think they like the human form because it isn’t intimidating and is more relatable,” Cinnabar continued.

“I thought the Worgen were fierce fighters,” Torque said.

“Any Worgen can hurt you, but farmers are farmers, Worgen or not,” Luxraina said. “These people are farmers; all they want is to live peacefully and tend their farms. Sure in Worgen form they can bite and claw, but they aren’t trained warriors. We have to help them.”

“Not to mention the goodwill it will generate: Horde types helping Worgen,” Bellon pointed out.

“The mayor seemed to like you,” Torque noted.

“Yeah, your accent is not too unlike theirs. I guess he figured you’re a kindred spirit,” Luxraina suggested.

“He couldn’t see that you’re blue, not pink.” Torque giggled.

Bellon sneered and snatched up the pots and dinner fixings; he went out into the barnyard to make a fire and cook their meal. There was still enough light to see what he was doing while he cut up the elements for venison stew. A shift in light from the house caught his attention and he saw the woman peeking out again. A noise from the side of the barn drew his attention, something small.

“I see you little one, come on out,” he encouraged. He shook his head at the waif who inched out of the shadows. “Are you hungry?” The child nodded. He wasn’t sure if it was a boy or a girl, it was dressed in over-sized cast-offs. “Doesn’t your mum feed you?”

“Since the animals and crops was stole, we ain’t had but bread to eat.” The child was chewing its thumb nail.

“Well, we can’t have that. You go tell your folks that we got plenty and are happy to share. Run along,” he urged the child off. Once the child was gone, he added more to the stew then told Luxraina and Cinnabar.

“I’ll go talk to the family,” Cinnabar offered and headed for the house. When she knocked, the man answered holding his scythe defensively. The more she talked, the more he relaxed and looked back at his hungry family.

“They will provide a table and plates and utensils,” she announced when she got back. “Lux and I will help them move the table and chairs into the yard.”

“There are a bunch of rakes and stuff and several lanterns in the barn. I’ll set them up to light the area.” Torque hurried back into the barn.

Arbeth looked uncertain. “Maybe I should…”

“No you don’t,” Bellon stopped her. “As I said, this is an opportunity to create goodwill. You will join the party. If you show fear of them, that will only feed their fear of you.”

The dinner started a little uncertainly; but Torque’s bumptious nature, Cinnabar’s and Luxraina’s equanimity, and Bellon’s excellent cooking skills soon broke down the barriers.

The family’s name was Fieldstone: Jonathan, Patricia, Maraleigh, and Caleb. They had been farmers in Gilneas before it was overrun by Sylvanas’ army.

Arbeth even began talking with Patricia about her brother and growing up in Pyrewood. It turned out they knew some of the same people. Patricia could tell Arbeth what happened to them. Arbeth shared her own story about how she became Forsaken.

“Where are you from?” Jonathan asked Bellon. “Your, uh, complexion is unique.”

Bellon chuckled. “Not from around here, I can tell you that.”

“Do you really think you can take care of the demons?” Jonathan asked with a tinge of hope mixed with disbelief.

“We took out a whole company,” Torque piped up.

“We had Daiva and Phallus with us then, but yes, with good planning, I think we can,” Bellon answered. He looked at Caleb, the waif he had met earlier. “We’ll get you back your animals or at least bring you food stuffs when we’re done.”

“There’s a good chance the cows and sheep are still alive; they want them for food too and fresh is better.” Jonathan let out a healthy burp. Patricia hissed at him and slapped him. “Excuse me,” he apologized sheepishly.

Report 26: Day 71: Final Report. This is to inform you that I shall send no more reports until such time as Darth Vowrawn himself is standing before me. I will be shutting off my long-range transceiver. All communications must go through 2VR8, my ship-board protocol droid. It will be instructed that no communications will be patched to me without my express permission. Have a nice day.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a reconnoiter and a plan to eliminate the demons comes together.  
> Billy gets some news from home - home-home like the Chiss Ascendancy home.   
> He gets to once again demonstrate the transiency of death on Azeroth.   
> Can Torque not offend a couple of high-ranking Imperial allies? We'll see.

The sun was well up when Bellon and Torque headed off in the direction of the demon camp. They took Spot and Black so as not to make noise. Bellon made sure he had map making material in his backpack.

The demon camp seemed to be in a small mountain range on the coast. It was in a basin open on the northeast and protected on three sides by rocky ridges. The two squatted behind rocks and looked down on the camp. Bellon marked the location on his map using his equipment. Torque was fascinated by the process and kept asking questions. Bellon hadn’t bothered to do this before.

“Look at the geography,” Bellon indicated the layout. “They’re in an ancient caldera, mouth of a long dead volcano. That south ridge is the coastline and the bottom of the caldera is below sea level.”

“What’s that mean?” Torque asked.

Bellon grinned viciously. “It means, with the right explosives, we can flood the bastards out. Let’s get back to the Fieldstones.”

“There is a story of an old cave below the water on that south side,” Jonathan told him when he heard the plan. “I don’t know if it’s true and if it is, where the cave is or how deep it is. Either way, to access it you would have to dive.”

“When I was in Vashj’ir, a druid from the Cenarion Circle cast a permanent water breathing spell on me,” Cinnabar explained. “I can confirm the location of the cave.”

Bellon frowned, “but…”

“You will need to make the calculations, I know; but I can make a one-hour water breathing elixir; that should be sufficient for you to access the cave and do what you must, once you know where it is,” she explained. “I have several in my pack and can easily make more. If you determine that this is feasible, I will ensure there is enough for you and Torque to sap the cave wall.”

Bellon smiled and kissed her forehead. “You are brilliant.”

“You’ll need to access the area by air,” Jonathan explained. “The livery has a couple of griffins he might let you use. How will you find the cave?”

Bellon dug into his pack and pulled out a scanner. “With this, it can measure the density of the rock.” For the first time since they arrived, he saw Jonathan smile. For this farmer, it was a glimmer of hope.

“Come with me, I’ll introduce you to Doug Carrington; he owns the griffins. You might want to talk to Old Rulien; that old elf has lived here centuries and might have more information.” He indicated Bellon and Cinnabar.

Rulien was a very old Highborne elf and lived in the village. They were met at the door by his caretaker, a young Gilnean girl, who introduced herself as Julia Whittaker. She led them into the library and introduced them.

“I heard of your arrival,” the ancient elf told them squinting through cataracts. “Why do you visit this doddering old elf?”

“Mr. Fieldstone said you might have some information about a cave in the south wall of the old caldera.” Bellon pulled out the map he had made and laid it out on the table.

Julia brought a very bright lamp and handed Rulien a magnifying glass so he could see the map. The old elf nodded his appreciation at the accuracy of the map.

“The ocean has risen since I was a child. Back then, the mouth of the cave was partially exposed at low tide. It was, if I remember correctly, in this area.” Rulien drew a circle on the map with his finger. He anticipated Bellon’s question. “The seas were too rough; I never had the courage to venture within. I know nothing of its interior.”

“You have been inordinately helpful, sir,” Bellon took the elder’s hand and squeezed it. “Your information will narrow down our search tremendously.”

“The less time we spend searching, the less time the demons have to notice us,” Cinnabar added with a smile.

“The cave is probably an old lava vent,” Bellon suggested as Jonathan led them to the livery. “It could very likely angle up but should be clear; lava like any liquid would have followed the path of least resistance. Are you sure you can stay underwater indefinitely?”

“I was in Vashj’ir three months and got to the surface only twice in that time. Yes, I’m certain.” Cinnabar was confident.

“The spell wasn’t area specific?” Jonathan asked with concern.

“No, the druid said it was, but I’ve been able to breathe underwater elsewhere for hours; I checked that out,” she explained.

“Heh, Rhys,” Jonathan called to the village smith. “Where’s Doug?”

The brawny man scarred by sparks from his forge straightened his back and regarded the approaching group.

“He’s to the north helping his wife forage, why?” The smith asked.

“Rhys is Doug’s brother,” Jonathan explained aside to Bellon and Cinnabar. “I want you to meet some of the folks who volunteered to eradicate the demons.” Jonathan made introductions around.

Rhys’ handshake was bone crushing and his calluses scratched Bellon’s unprotected skin. He seemed dismayed at Bellon’s ‘weak’ handshake. “What can I do for you?” he asked, all business.

“They need to use your brother’s griffins to look for the cave,” Jonathan explained.

It was obvious that did not sit well with Rhys. “He don’t rent them out cheap and it has taken all our wits to keep them from falling into the demons’ hands. What assurance can you give us that they’ll be returned?”

Cinnabar was pulling out her purse as Bellon explained their plan to fly very low, close to the surface of the ocean and below the ridge. He further explained that once they had the information, in the future, they would use other means to reach the cave. He didn’t tell them he would help Torque create a portal into the cave, underwater if need be.

After the exchange of a considerable amount of gold, which included a safe-return deposit, Bellon and Cinnabar took off on the griffins. They headed south and flew about a mile off the coast before turning to parallel the distant shoreline. When the cliffs loomed up, they dropped their altitude to just skimming the waves and turned back towards land. Once they were over the breaking waves, Bellon turned on his scanner and searched for evidence of the cave. They made several passes with him aiming the device lower each time.

“Got it,” he shouted and circled the Griffin close to the spot. “It’s about 10 meters below the surface and it seems to travel straight, at least as far as the scanner can detect.”

“You find a place on the shore to hide with the mounts. I’ll meet you there.” Cinnabar dove off the Griffin and disappeared below the waves.

Bellon held his breath until she bobbed to the surface, waved, and dove again. He turned back to a shelf in the rocks he had noticed in their passes. All he could do now was wait; he wasn’t sure he liked that.

It seemed like hours, but in fact had been barely one hour, before he saw Cinnabar swimming his direction. He threw her a rope and pulled her up onto the ledge.

She gave herself a good shake spraying him and the Griffins with sea water, then smiled victoriously. “It goes fairly straight; there is an open area with air, it seemed fairly fresh so the air is coming in from someplace. There was no smell to it so it’s not coming from the demon’s camp. The cave itself ends below water a little way beyond that cavern. I have a water-breathing potion with me. Do you want to check it out yourself while we’re here?”

“As a matter of fact,” he announced. “My God woman, you think of everything.” He pulled out his scanner and tucked it into his pant’s waist.

She blushed at the praise and fished a vial of blue elixir out of her haversack. “Drink it all; it’s a little bitter.”

A little bitter? Bellon felt like his face was collapsing in on itself when he finished the bottle. He took a deep breath and leap of faith. “Breathe normally,” she called from the ledge.

It was very hard to combat the natural instinct of a land dweller, raised with a fear of drowning, to inhale while underwater. To his shock and surprise, he felt his lungs fill with refreshing air. He dove down and swam back to where the cave was. It was dark inside but no darker than the caves of Csilla without lights. His eyes adjusted, and he could see the way clearly.

When he reached the end of the cave, he took readings. Thank the Emperor for Kaas City technology; the scanner worked in all possible environments. Hardened lava narrowed and closed off the end of the tube. After the last major eruptions, perhaps there had been a little bit of lava that oozed into the tube and solidified.

He swam back along the roof to where the cave opened up. He broke the surface and found a small ledge on which to perch. He took readings of the cave then returned to Cinnabar.

It was just past noon when they returned the two Griffins hale and hearty to Rhys and received their deposit in exchange. As they headed back to the Fieldstone farm, Bellon reviewed the information on the scanner.

“I have enough information for Torque to create a portal into the cavern. The end of the cave is about 40 meters from the inner wall of the caldera and about 5 meters above the floor of the caldera.” He took a skipping step.

Cinnabar smiled. “So you can sap it and let the ocean in, with a vengeance.” She laughed at Bellon’s happy dance and added her own joyful steps.

“I take it your expedition was successful,” Torque said when the grinning pair skipped into the Fieldstone barn. “So what did you find?”

“We found a weak link in their defenses,” Cinnabar announced. “I have to make a lot of water-breathing potion.” She headed for her pack to take inventory of her stock of herbs.

“And that means…” the goblin left the sentence unfinished.

“You and I need to make a lot of seaforium bombs,” Bellon announced.

Jonathan Fieldstone gasped and gaped in horror. The buildings of his farm were all he had left currently. The idea of a highly volatile mixture being concocted in or around them scared him to death. He started to speak but something got the better of him and he held his tongue. These five were talking about taking on an entire battalion of the Burning Legion. Who was he to reprimand such a dangerous and ruthless group of people?

The goblin hopped to his feet and rubbed his hands together. “Making things go boom is what I love the best.”

“Mind letting us in on the details of your plan, Billy?” Arbeth asked.

Bellon laid out his plan to clear the end of the lava tube and let the ocean clean out the demon camp. All they would have to do is stay at a distance and keep the demons dead while Luxraina ensured they would stay dead. He began listing what they would need to make the bombs.

“No, no, no, Torque.” Bellon stopped the goblin from immediately starting to mix the explosive. “You and I are going to move way far away from any civilized people to make this stuff. If it goes horribly wrong, we won’t damage any property and we won’t kill anyone but us.” He carefully began putting the ingredients back into Torque’s pack. He smiled at the farmer when he heard the audible sigh. “From the air, I saw an abandoned stone building north of Town.”

He and Torque gathered their gear, mounted their rides, and headed off.

“Da, where are they going?” Maraleigh hurried into the barn shortly after the roar of Torque’s trike subsided.

“We aren’t defenseless child,” Jonathan gave her a reassuring hug.

“Maraleigh, do you know anything about potions?” Cinnabar asked. The 13-year-old nodded. “Can you fish?”

“Caleb loves to fish,” the girl volunteered.

“I will need a lot of strangle kelp and blackmouth oil. Caleb can catch the fish while I harvest the seaweed. Then you can help me create the elixir.” Cinnabar glanced at Jonathan, who nodded.

“Go tell Caleb he’s going fishing. Maybe he can also catch tonight’s dinner.” The father hurried his daughter off.

“I’ll keep them safe,” Cinnabar assured before shouldering her herb pouch and heading out.

********

Torque and Bellon began carefully laying out the minerals and chemicals they would need to make the explosive. Torque pulled out his portable forge so they could make the bomb canisters. They set to work as Bellon explained.

“You and I will be the sappers. You can use ice and fire to help weaken the stone. We will clear the way up to within one meter of the caldera wall. We will then set several large bombs and get the hell out of there before we detonate them.” Bellon explained.

“How do we get in and out without being discovered by the green meanies?”

“I have all the information we need for you to make a portal into a cavern with a pocket of air. We port there, take the potion, work for an hour, rinse, and repeat.”

Torque shrugged at the simplicity then asked. “If I showed you a location on a map and gave you the altitude, could you calculate a portal location for me?” There was something suspiciously innocent about the question.

Bellon looked at him askance. “Ye-e-ess.”

Torque smiled. “Good.” He said no more.

They had been working steadily for over 24 hours and had what Bellon figured to be half the bombs they needed. They had taken a couple of breaks to eat and sleep. Suddenly, Bellon’s holocommunicator beeped. He looked at it suspiciously and noticed it was 2VR8.

He accepted the transmission. “What is it Twovee?”

“Uh, Master, please don’t deactivate me but there is a Chiss here insisting upon speaking with you.”

2VR8 disappeared and a middle-aged man with grey at the temples of his dark-blue hair appeared. “Major Bellon, I am General Avath’ael’nuruodo of the Chiss Expeditionary Forces.”

Bellon blinked. “I am honored General Avath. To what do I owe the pleasure.” He responded stiffly.

“You don’t look pleased; you look scared shitless,” Torque commented.

“Shut up,” Bellon snapped. “Not you, general.”

“In person if we might. I should like to come planet side; would you please transmit the coordinates for a safe landing zone.” It was a gentle order, not a request.

“Uh, of course, general. Give me a little time and I’ll get back to you.”

“Of course.” The general signed off.

Bellon exhaled and sucked in fresh air. He glared at Torque, who was laughing.

“So is that guy another one like you? You know, human but not quite and blue?”

“That is a stupid question. You saw him. Don’t do anything until I get back.” Bellon hurried out to find a secure landing area. Once he had transmitted the coordinates to the general, he hurried back to the workshop and gave himself a quick sponge bath and put on what clean clothes he had.

“Whoa, this guy must be important. What is he, your girlfriend’s dad?”

“Something like that; he’s her uncle and head of her family. He’s also the highest ranking Chiss military officer in the Ascendancy.” Bellon headed back toward the landing site. Torque followed.

Torque whistled when the sleek shuttle, Ascendancy markings, folded its wings and settled gently in the grass of the clearing. “That is one pretty ship. I hope this guy has more sense than those two dearths they sent.”

“These aren’t the same people. These are from the Chiss Ascendancy, not the Empire.” Bellon made the distinction.

Two armored and armed body guards exited the shuttle first, scanned the area, then gave their commander the all-clear. The general was a tall man with a stern expression; his figure was trim despite his being middle aged. He was accompanied by a younger female in the CEF uniform of a colonel in the C.A.I. (Chiss Ascendancy Intelligence). She was also in excellent physical condition; she wore her black hair short and swept back from her face.

Bellon snapped to attention and saluted as the two approached.

The general cocked an odd smile. “I thought you considered your military status null and void?” he chuckled at Bellon’s sheepish expression. “Don’t be surprised; you intended for us to receive all your reports and transmissions, and we appreciate that. Is there somewhere out of the weather we might sit and talk?”

The overcast sky was beginning to thicken and threaten rain. The wind had begun to pick up just as the shuttle retracted its ramp and lifted off.

“Yes, sir. Uh, may I introduce my compatriot, Torque Sharpshiv. Torque this is General…”

“I caught your name when you helloed Billy, General Avath. Who’s the babe?”

Bellon smacked the goblin in the back of his head. “You’ll forgive Torque, he has the manners of a rabid gundark.”

The general glowered at the goblin. “This is Colonel Lorno’fai’nuruodo, corename Ofain. You may call me by my corename, Thealn.”

The colonel bowed her head. “Pleasure,” she stated simply.

“Corename?” Torque grimaced in confusion.

“Think of it as a nickname. It’s all part of our confusing-to-outsiders naming convention,” the colonel explained kindly.

“This way, sir.” Bellon indicated they head back for the stone house just as fat rain drops began to fall. As they walked, he thought about Colonel Lorno. There was something about her, a subtle power different from the general’s. He watched her surreptitiously. She walked with a calm confidence, not unusual for an officer of her rank. She was extremely observant taking in everything around her, not unusual for an intelligence officer. She moved without making any noise; that was strange.

Except for the colonel, they were quite wet by the time they reached the house; but between the fireplace and the forge, it was warm and everything quickly dried.

The two body guards posted themselves by the door. Ofain squatted and studied the forge that had no apparent source of fire. Thealn pulled a chair over by the fireplace and sat.

“What are you doing?” The general indicated the finished bombs and those still being made. “Looks like enough explosives to take down the Imperial Citadel.”

“Nope, we’re going to blow some demons back to Argos,” Torque volunteered happily. “Kava?” He pulled out several cups and offered to pour a hot, dark liquid from a pot hanging in the fire place. “So what brings you guys to the armpit of the galaxy?”

Ofain chuckled. “Little man, could you explain to me how this works?”

“Woo.” Torque gave a skip. “Sure, got a boy friend?” Torque sidled up to her side and began explaining the magic behind the forge.

“May I ask, general, what brings you here?” Bellon slipped into the chair opposite Thealn.

“You do. We want you to come back home. Fai wants you to train Chiss agents for CAI. I want you to come home so my niece will stop mourning and my great niece-slash-nephew will have a present father.”

Bellon blinked. Did he just hear that right? “Your great n…?”

“Yes, your child.” The general tapped Bellon’s chest. “You are the last of the Bellon line, aside from this child. The Council of Families wants you back on Csilla. I don’t want Loa living on Dromund Kaas. No one wants your child raised there. The Council is considering no longer allowing Ascendancy citizens to serve in the Imperial Army after what happened to your father, mother, and sister.”

“My child?” Bellon frowned.

The general sighed realizing Bellon hadn’t heard anything he said after that. “Yes, Loa is just over two-months pregnant. She was pregnant when she arrived back on Csilla. YOUR child will be born surrounded by its families on the word of its heritage.”

Bellon chuckled nervously. “Me a father?”

“Don’t look so surprised, it can happen to everyone, even that little, green, bat-eared friend of yours. However, if he doesn’t get his hand of Fai’s bot…”

There was a loud crack and Torque wailed in pain cradling his arm.

Bellon went to his pack, pulled out his blaster, and to everyone’s shock, shot Torque. The goblin’s body fell in a heap with a blaster shot to his heart. Bellon nonchalantly put the blaster away and returned to his seat. “What? If you read the reports, you would know he’ll respawn in 10 to 20 minutes. His arm will also be healed.”

The general tried to reestablish his calm but couldn’t take his eyes off the lifeless body. He suppressed a shudder at the coldness with which Bellon had murdered his friend and the callousness with which he ignored the body.

Ofain stood over the body intently watching it to see if Bellon’s reports on the matter had been factual. She stared in amazement as the chest wound seemed to close up; even the unnaturally bent arm she had broken looked to rectify itself. This was the Force in action such as she had never before witnessed.

“And you…, your child…, um, train agents.” The general had to regain his thoughts.

Bellon crossed one leg over the other and rest his chin in one hand. Go home, no more Sith, a boring day-job, be with Loa, raise his child, perhaps children. There was an allure to that he had never before imagined.

Everyone but Bellon reacted when the body took a deep breath and Torque stood up. “You son of a bitch!”

“That’s four; you owe me two more,” Bellon responded. “How’s your arm?”

“Heh, it’s fine.” Torque grinned as he flexed the healed appendage.

“Keep your hands off Colonel Lorno,” Bellon warned. “Look but don’t touch.”

“Okay,” Torque mumbled and scrambled up into an empty chair.

The general’s eyebrows shot into his hairline at Torque’s acceptance at having been murdered in cold blood.

“So what’s with the bigwigs visiting?” Torque sat with his big hands in his little lap. He suffered Ofain poking him and scrutinizing him.

Bellon explained all Thealn had told him.

“You can’t leave!” Torque stood in his chair. “You have to help us drive these demons off Azeroth.”

“I have never witnessed or heard of any Force user coming back to life like that.” Ofain straightened and shook her head. “The Jedi say our bodies are luminous and upon death we become one with the Force, but…”

“Are you Force sensitive?” Bellon asked putting his suspicions together.

She smiled and nodded. “Yes, like you.”

Bellon barked a laugh. “I’m not Force sensitive.”

“Yeah you are. Daiva told you that repeatedly and she proved it. It’s why you don’t never miss a shot,” Torque reminded him ticking off fingers. “She said it’s why you could make your Dekidt Mark I Silent Fart Rifle of Death. I bet its why you could figure out the spell for me to make a portal to this town and why you know exactly how much seaforium we need to breach the caldoodad-whazzit wall.”

“Caldera,” Bellon enunciated carefully.

“Yeah, what you said.”

Bellon rolled his eyes. “Your portal spell is nothing more than simple navigational points. I’ve always been a good shot. I’m just a better engineer than you.”

“Never missed a shot, you say?” Ofain rubbed her chin. “No, major, you’re Force sensitive; you never miss because you KNOW what move your target is going to make and where it will be when the shot intersects.” She picked up the sniper rifle leaning against the wall. “And the calibrations to make this rifle are much too exact to make without specialized equipment.”

“My droid brought me the equipment necessary to calibrate the chamber housing and contact gaps.” Bellon argued. “And I have missed shots.”

“Once, when that mage demon blasted you, killing you; that threw off your aim,” Torque countered.

“Yeah, it’s hard to hit something when you’re dead,” Ofain commented, folding her arms across her chest and smirking at Bellon.

“Tell me about it,” Torgue agreed with disgust.

Bellon turned to Thealn as if he hoped to find support from him.

The general nodded at Ofain. “I trust what she says. All the more reason to get you back to Csilla and away from the Sith. They would send you to Korriban in a heartbeat, and we all know how well that worked for your sister.”

Bellon ground his teeth. He would actually like to exact some revenge on Korriban for her death; she had only been nine. He slumped back in the chair and considered his option; one return to Keeper and face the music for his insubordination and possibly end up an acolyte on Korriban or two go home to Csilla and become a family man. Somehow that latter sounded pleasant.

He nodded having made his decision. “You’re right and I want to go home.” He leaned forward. “But not before we take care of the local demon problem. I don’t like walking out on a job I haven’t finished. Unfortunately, that includes my current assignment, which doesn’t end until Darth Vowrawn gets his little AWOL ass to Azeroth to negotiate the treaty.”

“Which leads us to another problem. After reviewing your reports and witnessing the power of the Force on this planet, the Council of Families does NOT want the Emperor to take over it the way he does all other planets within his sphere.” The general took a data disk off his utility belt and handed it Bellon. “This is information about how the Chiss Ascendancy negotiated its treaty with the Empire and maintained its autonomy. You need to use it to ensure Azeroth does the same. Imagine the Sith with unfettered access to the Force powerful beings of this planet.”

Bellon visibly shuddered. “I see our point.”

“What’s he mean?” Torque asked.

“He means he doesn’t want you and the Kirin Tor turning into Darths sweeping psychotically across the galaxy,” Bellon explained.

Thealn addressed Torque. “With that information, your leaders could negotiate a treaty that prevents anyone from the Empire from setting foot on Azeroth without the citizens’ express permission. That means they can’t enslave anyone; they can’t make your Force sensitives, er magic users, go to Korriban to learn how to be murderers and despots; they can’t bleed the planet dry of its valuable resources; and they can’t decide to put a military base or prison or government building or anything here.”

“Unless we say yes.” Torque pursed his lips and nodded. “That makes super-good sense.” He then frowned. “Only one problem; I know she’s my warchief and all but Sylvanas is a looney-dook. I don’t think you could convince her to negotiate in a sensible fashion that would benefit ALL of Azeroth, just her Forsaken.”

“Torque’s right,” Bellon pointed out then his eyes widened. “But Thrall and Khadgar…”

“Yeah,” Torque clapped his hands. “Who’s hungry, my turn to cook.”

“Aw, gee, you’ve had a rough day, little buddy, what with dying and all. I’ll spell you this once,” Bellon offered. Though his tone and expression and body language were conciliatory, Ofain could sense his horror at the idea of the goblin cooking.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Argos, portals, Galliwix, sheeping, and bombs, it's a busy morning for Billy and Torque and educational for General Avath and Colonel Lorna .  
> When they return to the Fieldstone's farm, they find everyone's been busy.

“What the Hell is that?” The bellow from Thealn woke everyone. They rushed out to find him staring at Argos floating in the southwestern sky. The general’s bodyguards had rushed out ready to defend the man; they now stared up with fear on their faces.

“Oh, that’s Argos, ancient home of the Draenei and current home of the Burning Bastard Legion.” Torque explained with his hands on his hips.

The morning sky was clear, the sun was warming the night air as it rose above the mountains to the east. Birds were flitting about in search of their morning meals. Argos hung low, multi-colored, and somewhat broken above Azeroth.

“That was NOT on our scanners and it wasn’t there yesterday,” the general countered.

“Well, yes it was, sir,” Bellon explained. “You couldn’t see it from the ground because of the overcast. You can’t pick it up on your scanners or see it from space for some reason known only to and peculiar to Azeroth. It’s been there about four weeks now and is the source of the demons we intend to eradicate by virtue of the ocean and seaforium.”

“Col. Lorno, can you explain it?” Thealn asked.

Ofain frowned. “No I can’t.”

“Well, you see, it’s like this,” Torque began. He explained how there was a massive portal created between the two planets and that Argos was still where it was supposed to be; everyone was just seeing it through the portal which was in the high atmosphere.

Thealn rubbed his face anxiously. “All the more reason the Emperor and Dark Council don’t have full access to this planet. They could invade any planet anywhere and change the _status quo_.”

“Who’s Stattis Kwoh?” Torque asked.

“Sshh,” Bellon hissed.

“Like Csilla,” Ofain added uncertainly. She turned to Bellon. “So how would they make a portal between two planets?

Bellon thought a moment. “First you would need more than one mage…”

“Like 20,” Torque interrupted. “Actually tons more because they keep it open all the time.”

Bellon nodded. “Then you need the astral coordinates of the world you want the portal to open onto. I’m not sure how they account for the fact that all celestial bodies in the galaxy are moving.” His eyes widened as words came back to him, ‘you can see where your target will be when the shot impacts.’ “That’s it; after studying the track through space, they can see where the planet will be when the portal is finally finished. Once it’s opened and being held open, the movement of celestial bodies doesn’t matter. Once that portal is open, you can make a smaller second portal to a specific spot on the target planet using its latitudinal-longitudinal-altitudinal coordinates.”

A knowing smile spread across Ofain’s face. There was no doubt at all that Bellon’dfrey’theris was Force sensitive. His sister had been stronger so came to the attention of the Sith on Dromund Kaas; but Bellon’s gift had blossomed from his time on this Force imbued planet. The Chiss were very possessive about their Force sensitive children; they were watched growing up then channeled into an occupation that best suited their gifts. Bellon had, by happy chance, fallen into his calling as an Imperial Agent. Now he would be a CAI analyst and instructor, and a damned good one. And the CAI would have the knowledge of how to make these portals.

“Heh, Billy, let’s show them how it’s done.” Torque darted back inside and dragged several maps back outside.

“I haven’t eaten or washed up or relieved myself. Let’s do that first,” Bellon stalked off to a nearby stream.

“He has an excellent point.” Ofain trundled off to the outhouse, which still stood behind the old homestead.

The sun was well up by the time they finished eating. Bellon put off Torque’s request to calculate the spell for the portal by reminding him of their primary job, to make the charges they needed. Both Thealn and Ofain watched with interest as the two, who had established an assembly-line system of mixing the seaforium, making the casings, putting the seaforium in the casings, and sealing the casings. By mid afternoon, they had made 10.

“I need a break, show me on the map where you want this portal to go,” Bellon cleaned off his hands and went back out into the cool air and bright light.

Torque rolled out the map of Azeroth Bellon had marked with latitudes and longitudes then produced a map of an area north of Orgrimmar. He pointed at a spot in what looked to be the middle of a mountain.

“The altitude is 287 feet,” the goblin said. He stepped away and waited impatiently, shifting from foot to foot, and watching expectantly as Bellon worked.

“Okay, here you go. Where’s it go?” Bellon asked.

“Oh, to a friend,” Torque explained vaguely and much too innocently.

“Yeah, right. Well show them how you make a portal.” Bellon stepped back. The general and his entourage stood in a semi-circle and watched.

He began memorizing the series of numbers. Torque spoke the numbers in a strange language and made gestures. A swirl of mist began forming then expanded until it was about the diameter of Torque’s height.

They could almost see a building behind what looked like a pool and an outdoor patio.

Torque clapped his hands and danced and laughed before stepping through the portal.

“Heh, Galliwix! Hi buddy. SHEEP!” Torque jumped back through and shut the portal laughing hysterically.

“What did you just do, Torque?” Bellon demanded.

Torque was rolling on the ground gripping his stomach. “I… I… I’m stay… staying on… Galli… Galliwix’s bad side.” He continued laughing.

“Who is this Galliwix?” Ofain asked.

“He’s a goblin trade prince. He and Torque don’t exactly see eye to eye,” Bellon explained shaking his head.

“So what did he do?” Thealn asked.

“I sheeped him,” Torque had just regained composure but started laughing again.

“Sheeped him?” Thealn asked.

“Yeah, like this.” Before Bellon could respond, Torque spun on him. “Sheep!”

“Baaaaaaa,” Bellon bleated impotently. He then realized as a male sheep he had horns. He dropped his head and charged Torque. He caught the goblin in the gut between the horns and threw the mage about four feet. He charged again.

“Well, that’s interesting,” Thealn observed somewhat non-plussed. “Master Sharpshiv, could you please turn him back?”

Bellon the ram paused in his assault to see if Torque would comply.

Torque stood and dusted himself off. “It wears off in a couple…” Bellon charged again butting him toward a former pig sty.

“If you recall Major Bellon’s Report 2: Day 2: Goblin Mages, he recounted how Mr. Sharpshiv turned him into a sheep,” Ofain pointed out. She turned to Torque. “Can they trace where that portal came from?”

“Nah, only if it stays open,” Torque managed before Bellon caught him and threw solidly into the mud.

“Baa,” Bellon snapped and walked back to the house.

“Maybe you should turn him back,” Thealn suggested.

“Nah, he’ll just kill me.” Torque was trying to shake mud off his robe.

“I believe he’s going to do that anyway. By the way, we could hear you and see a pool and building.” Ofain looked up at Argos. “Do you suppose they are aware of our ships in orbit?”

“Nope!” Torque was confident. “They can only see what’s in front of the portal, which is Azeroth. You can’t see what’s off to the side.”

“Torque, you and Dfrey still have a lot of bombs to make. Just turn him back, accept his retribution, and get back to work,” Thealn made it all sound so reasonable.

“Alright.”

Ofain stared at Argos as Torque went after Bellon in the house to turn him back.

“What is on your mind, Fai?” Thealn asked.

Her eyes glittered. “No need for space travel and the ultimate in surprise attacks.”

“You son of a bitch,” they heard Bellon roar; there was the shot of a blaster. About 20 minutes later “You son of a bitch,” Torque responded.

*****

The next day, the group returned to the Fieldstone’s farm. The presence of the four, new, blue-skinned humans brought everyone in the village out to stare when they passed through.

Ofain jumped back when Dr. Nope scuttled up to her and seemed to sniff her; Thealn didn’t move but his expression indicated he was very uncomfortable about the giant spider. As the two guards tried to back away, the spider followed them chittering happily until Arbeth called him off. That distracted him, but he seemed happy to surround himself with the five Chiss.

“Don’t look at me, he seems to like us,” Bellon explained with a shrug.

Arbeth confirmed that Dr. Nope’s attachment to Bellon, and now the general and his entourage, was unusual. She then passed on news that Luxraina had left shortly after them to go after her ‘weapon of badass awesomeness’.

Bellon frowned. “We can’t attack until she returns.” The two soldiers and Torque were gingerly off-loading the bombs and stacking them away from any structures. “Oh, yeah.” Bellon introduced Arbeth to Thealn and Ofain. “Where’s Cin?”

Arbeth pointed at the house. “She and Maraleigh are making the water-breathing elixir for you and Torque to use.” She looked approvingly at the pile of bombs. “That should get us through the caldera wall.”

Jonathan Fieldstone stood by nervously trying to not think about what would happen if one of those went off. He wasn’t aware of Ofain staring at him.

“Everyone here is Force sensitive,” she finally announced. “Even the farmer.”

Now Jonathan looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“She means you have magic in you,” Bellon explained.

“Of course, I’m cursed. I’m Worgen.” Jonathan didn’t understand why this new woman was so surprised.

“Can you show me?” Ofain asked.

Jonathan shrugged. Immediately, his body began to contort, change shape, and grow. His face elongated and his teeth enlarged; his feet broke out of their shoes and he rose onto his toes which were now paws; fur broke out all over his body. As a canid, he stretched his back and looked down at the Chiss woman.

“Does this satisfy your curiosity, woman?” He asked his voice growling and deeper than normal.

“Fascinating.” She walked around him taking a holorecording and scanning his physiology. “You said you were cursed. How did this happen?”

Bellon and Arbeth headed for the house to see how Cinnabar was doing while Jonathan regaled Thealn and Ofain with how he and his wife had been bitten and cursed but their children were born later and seemed unaffected.

They passed Caleb sitting on the porch filleting fish. Cinnabar was in the Fieldstone’s kitchen with Patricia and Maraleigh rending the fish down to extract the oil. Bellon wrinkled his nose at the pungent fish smell.

Cinnabar looked up and smiled when she saw Bellon. “Saw you made some new friends.” She cocked her head at a box filled with bottles of the blue elixir. “I’m thinking 80 should be enough for you boys to finish the job? That’s 40 hours of water breathing.”

“That should be more than enough. Seems everyone’s been busy.” He counted 20 bottles of elixir in three boxes and 10 in a fourth.

“So who are the guests?” Cinnabar asked.

Bellon explained about General Avath and Colonel Lorna and how he had been sending copies of all his reports to the Chiss Ascendancy.

“Keeper is not going to be happy when she finds out,” Cinnabar scolded with amusement.

Bellon shrugged somewhat sheepishly. “Hopefully, she won’t find out.”

“Heh, Cin baby,” Torque walked in. “Guess what I did.” He then bragged about sheeping Galliwix.

That evening, Luxraina walked into camp carrying a new sword and shield, Oathseeker and Truthguard. She had flown from Dalaran to Bradensbrook. She propped the new weapons against the barn wall, unstrapped her weapons belt, which held the vibroblade Bellon had made, and joined the group at the outdoor dinner table.

Bellon introduced to her to Thealn and Ofain and explained they wanted to help with the battle against the demons.

Luxraina looked at the two bodyguards still in their armor with their blasters strapped to their sides. She nodded and smiled. “They’ll do; not Daiva, but they look capable.”

Bellon leaned across the table and grinned. “They have real vibroblades.” He nodded toward the barn. “Show you later. So tell us about your new toys.” He sat back. “Torque and I will start sapping tomorrow. I’m sure Mr. Fieldstone would very much like to see those charges gone.”

“It’s been so exciting,” Maraleigh gushed. “Caleb and I went with Miss Cin to get the fish and strangle kelp then helped her make water-breathing potion.”

“I caught like 320 Oily Blackmouths, eleven Rock Cod, and nineteen groupers.” Caleb puffed his chest and pointed at his dinner plate.

Jonathan roughed his son’s hair and smiled proudly. “You provided last night’s and tonight’s supper, son.”

The boy enjoyed the praise for his fishing prowess. Cinnabar chuckled at how much he had complained because catching 350 fish was both tedious and time consuming, not to mention filleting them.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The old lava tube is ready to be blown then our intrepid adventurers will strike a blow for the Light.

It took some time to calibrate the portal so that it opened into the cavern and not in the rock wall. Torque held it open while Thealn’s bodyguards, Cinnabar, Luxraina, and Arbeth helped Bellon move the charges into it.

It wasn’t until after noon that Torque and Bellon were able to start work on clearing the blocked lava tube. Bellon had Torque first freeze then hit the wall with fire, much to Torque’s discomfort. This weakened the stone allowing them to place three charges. When those broke off the larger pieces and the debris cleared away, the process was repeated.

Bellon had set his chronometer to alarm every 55 minutes so he and Torque would know to take more of the water-breathing elixir.

Since there was no light in the cave, they had no sense of time. They figured, due to the number of elixir they had used, they had been working six hours when Torque’s stomach grumbled; since Torque had made one portal, he couldn’t do it again until the next day. The sun was setting when they broke the surface outside the cave. They had to swim about two kilometers to reach the beach. Being wet, they were immediately hit by the chill of the evening air drifting in off the ocean.

“We should have someone meet us with mounts tomorrow,” Torque suggested.

They had about two miles to go to reach the farm and set out walking. It was dark when they finally arrived.

“You’re soaked, you’ll catch your death,” Patricia Fieldstone noted the moment she saw their bedraggled state.

“I will ensure that does not happen,” Cinnabar assured. “Does Caleb and Jonathan have some extra pants and shirts that perhaps they might put on?”

As Patricia hurried back to her house, Cinnabar hustled the two into the barn and made them strip out of their wet clothes. They were wrapped in blankets when Jonathan returned with a change of dry clothes and towels. Thealn was with him. The two males urged Cinnabar out.

Bellon smiled appreciatively at the two. “Thanks. Even though she’s not humanoid, it’s still embarrassing.”

That evening, Torque curled up with a pile of magic scrolls in the barn by himself. Bellon was as curious as everyone else, but insisted the Goblin be undisturbed.

The next day, before the two stepped through the portal into the cavern, Cinnabar and Luxraina insisted that they should take several breaks and not try to work straight through. Patricia insisted they should eat a mid-day meal to keep up their strength.

“I think I figured out how to tie the portal open, at least for a few hours,” Torque announced. “Hey, hot lady colonel, you might want one of your body dudes to stand by it so no little ones run through.”

“The name is Fai,” Ofain said rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, whatever, you still hot.” He started the incantation that opened the portal then added a second.

Bellon took his scanner with him to check their progress. When they were ready to head back in after their mid-day meal, Ofain asked if she could accompany them to observe them at work. That made three going into the cavern.

At Thealn’s request, Arbeth took him and the remaining bodyguard to the ridge of the caldera overlooking the demon camp. He set a seismograph down and noted that there seemed to be no evidence of the charges going off, then he studied the base below.

The demons were about 2,000 strong; judging by the supplies they had amassed, they were planning to use this as one of their main bases of operation in the Burning Isles. He pointed out to Arbeth that if their portal wasn’t closed, they would just come through, clean up, and reestablish their beachhead.

“We caught them off guard in Silvermoon Forest by going through their own portal, killing their mages and closing the portal. They won’t let that happen again,” she noted as they descended the ridge to return to the farm.

“There might be another way,” Thealn suggested rubbing his jaw in thought.

“I thought you only wanted to observe,” Arbeth noted with amusement.

The general just smiled.

“Major Bellon, have you put any thought into to how to close their access to the caldera?” Thealn asked while they ate their dinner.

Bellon nodded. “I expect we’ll have a fair number of seaforium charges left over. I plan to shoot them through the portal and detonate them.”

“And how do you plan to get them through the portal without exposing yourself?” Thealn asked.

Bellon nodded at Torque.

Torque grinned happily. “I been working on something I saw Dearth Phallic do.” He proceeded to use magic to throw a rock out of a field Jonathan had been clearing. Torque returned to eating.

“You taught yourself to do that?” Ofain asked surprised.

Torque shrugged, nodded, and kept eating.

Ofain tried to process the fact that Torque had taught himself how to Force throw and he had taught himself how to make the portal stay open. In all her years as a Force sensitive, she had never been able to teach herself a new Force skill. Perhaps, she thought, Torque was a savant.

“And the detonator?” Thealn asked after he recovered from the impromptu demonstration.

“It’s in my backpack in the barn.” Bellon explained.

“You already worked this out and hadn’t told us?” Arbeth asked a little upset she had been left out of the loop.

“We figured it out today,” Bellon said. “Col. Lorno noted that we will not have to use all the charges. She asked if they could be used to help disrupt the demon’s operations.”

“I came up with using them to shut down the portal,” Torque announced proudly around the chunk of venison he was chewing.

“So, Billy, how close to the inner wall are you?” Luxraina asked.

“About three meters, two more rounds of clearing the way and the last set of charges for the final breach,” Bellon explained. “We will have everyone in place before we blow the wall; Torque and I will do that. We’ll then join you in the clean up.”

Thealn shook his head and chuckled. “I still can’t believe you five are going to take on a battalion; the most ridiculous aspect is that you have an excellent chance of succeeding.”

Arbeth shot the general a glance. “Nine of us, there are nine of us. Neither of you strike me as people who can sit by and do nothing when a challenge is present.”

Neither Thealn nor Ofain responded, but the two bodyguards nodded in agreement.

“Tonight we prepare for battle,” Luxraina announced. “Tomorrow, we strike a blow for The Holy Light.”

********

Thealn and Ofain and the bodyguards, with Dr. Nope in their midst, were on the ridge with Arbeth, Cinnabar, and Luxrain when a portion of the south wall of the caldera blew out and a two meter ‘firehose’ of sea water poured through. The pressure of the sea quickly expanded the opening and the force of the water knocked demons and gear helter-skelter. The mages couldn’t seal the breach without getting right in front of it. Several were hit by the water and knocked hundreds of yards. The water began to quickly rise in their camp.

Into that confusion, the attackers on the ridge began firing. The demons’ gear was caught and carried away by the rushing, frothing whitewater so they couldn’t return fire. Some tried to run back through their portal only to be shot down.

“Go, go,” Arbeth ordered Luxraina. “We need to ensure they stay dead. You two go with her.” She held onto Dr. Nope until he decided to stay and snuggled down low to the ground beside Ofain.

Luxraina and the two bodyguards, who shouldered their rifles, slid down the inside wall of the caldera and started swinging their vibroblades at any demon or body that got within range. The two bodyguards activated their personal shield generators and Luxraina held her own shield in one hand and her cobbled vibroblade in another. The three stood so that their shields overlapped. It seemed every attack thrown at them bounced off.

Bellon and Torque arrived and added their firepower to the attack. As the water rose, the demons were first slowed then found they had to swim. Some managed to find a dry spot on a far ridge from which to return long-range fire.

“Freeze the water now,” Bellon ordered as the inundation eased.

Torque cast a freeze on the new saltwater lake. It trapped hundreds of demons who has been unable to get to high ground. Luxraina and the two bodyguards started moving across the ice lopping off heads. The four on the ridge provided suppression fire against the few demons who had scrambled to high ground.

“Torque, the charges now,” Bellon indicated the pile of seaforium safely stashed out of sight.

When the bombs flew past the three on the ice, they dropped and hugged the surface. Torque’s aim was true and there was a massive explosion just before the portal winked out. Luxraina and the bodyguards were back on their feet putting an end to the trapped demons.

Bellon’s unerring aim made those on dry land dead as the four ensured those still alive couldn’t counter attack. Cinnabar kept throwing heals on the three out on the ice.

“The ice is starting to melt, get back here,” Thealn ordered his two bodyguards once silence reigned. He turned his attention to Bellon. “That was some shooting; you made that? Here? With raw materials?”

“It’s his Force gift,” Ofain reminded smiling. “Stupid Empire, doesn’t know what they had.” She patted Bellon on the shoulder.

“I just want to go home and live a normal life,” Bellon sighed.

“You? Normal? Hah,” Torque barked a laugh. “Living the quite life of a husband and dad is going to get to you after a while; just you wait.”

“We won’t let him get too bored,” Thealn assured with amusement.

The village was elated when they returned with news that the demon threat had been annihilated.

Sweeping through the Legion Camp after the battle, the group had found a storehouse of stolen supplies and livestock in a cave well above the flood; they had to kill three holdouts first. Some of these goods, after the rest was divvied up among the residents, were used for a feast. They held a celebration in the village center that evening.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang's victory over a full battalion of demons has spread like wildfire. And now, the recently crowned young King Anduin Wrynn wants to meet them.  
> Bellon passes on information to Thrall and Khadgar that is vital to Azeroth's future as an ally of the Sith Empire.

The group spent one last night in the Fieldstone’s barn. Thealn went over the negotiating tactics Bellon was to provide to Khadgar and Thrall. The next morning, they packed up their gear leaving the barn spotless, said their good-byes, and escorted the general and his entourage back to the landing site.

As they waited for the ramp to extend, Thealn handed Bellon a handwritten note then spoke in Cheunh. “When you are finished here, send your final report, then use at least three hyper-space jumps to proceed to these coordinates. A CEF ship will meet you. Program the droid to erase all data regarding all jumps between here and the rendezvous point where the Empire is to intercept your ship. I look forward to your return home.”

“Tell Loa that I miss her, and we’ll be together forever.” Bellon responded. It had been ages since he spoke his native tongue. It felt good.

“I look forward to your in-briefing with CAI and working with you,” Ofain added.

The two stepped back and saluted. Bellon blinked in surprise and returned the salute. General Avath led his landing party back up the ramp into the ship.

Bellon and his friends stepped clear of the thrusters and watched the shuttle depart.

“Well, hell, that was interesting,” Torque commented.

********

The party arrived back in Dalaran that afternoon. Bellon asked about Khadgar and Thrall and learned they were in a war council with Anduin Wrynn and Lady Sylvanas. He left word that he wished to meet privately with one or both and would they please contact him as to a convenient time and place. He stressed the meeting was important for the future of Azeroth and the successful conclusion of the war with the Burning Legion.

The party had decided to stay at the Legerdemain, an inn that catered to mages but was neutral in regards to the two factions. They sat silently around a table with their drinks in hand. Bellon had ordered a light wine; he hadn’t had wine since leaving Dromund Kaas. The rest were enjoying the various Azeroth ales the establishment sold.

“So, when do you think this Dearth Vulva…”

“Darth Vowrawn!” Bellon snapped.

“Darth Vowrawn will arrive?” Torque finished his question smoothly.

The women groaned and shook their heads.

“Not soon enough,” Bellon groused.

“You sound like you can’t wait to leave us?” Cinnabar’s tone was a little hurt.

Bellon sighed. “It’s not that. I’ll miss all of you. You’ve proven to be excellent friends. I will never forget that.” He brightened. “Maybe I’ll bring Loa back to meet you.”

“Spend your honeymoon here,” Torque suggested.

“A honeymoon, in a war zone?” Luxraina shook her head. “That’s just plain stupid.”

“Then after the baby is born,” Torque offered.

“Baby? What baby,” the other three asked.

“Oh, yeah, Thealn said that Billy’s girl is preggers. He’s going to be a daddy.”

“Congratulations. That’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you.” Bellon suffered the accolades.

“Maybe you’ll teach him to be a mage like me,” Torque suggested.

“Not if it requires getting a lobotomy like you,” Bellon retorted affectionately.

“What’s a lobotomy?” Torque whispered to Cinnabar.

“That’s where they remove your brain and replace it with purple goo,” she told him.

“Hey, Harmon,” Torque greeted. “Get over here and help me out against these guys. Us mages got to stick together.”

“Ah, good, just who I was looking for,” the Kirin Tor mage came over to the table. “I gave Khadgar your message, discretely of course. He said since you are staying here, he and Thrall will meet you in the conference room tomorrow at mid morning.”

“That’s fast,” Torque noted.

“If what you have to say will help bring about a swift end to the Burning Legion, Khadgar and Thrall will leave no stone unturned,” Harmon said slipping into a chair Bellon pulled over. He ordered a drink. “Word of your victory over the Legion in Bradensbrook is everywhere. You have earned the respect of not only Lady Sylvanas but King Wrynn himself. I believe he would like to meet you as well.”

“I’m sure he’s a very reasonable lad, but it would make bad blood to include him in the conversation and not Lady Sylvanas. It is her… how shall we say… single-mindedness that concerns me,” Bellon explained.

“You are too polite.” Arbeth rolled her eyes. “Vitriolic obsession is closer to the truth.”

“Khadgar and Thrall agree with you,” Harmon explained. “If you wish, I can set up a separate meet and greet with King Wrynn for all of you. He suggested this evening.”

Bellon frowned. “How did you explain my asking after Thrall and Khadgar?”

“I didn’t. I told them you were here to announce your victory in Bradensbrook and to report back for further assignment,” Harmon explained. “I told you I was discrete.” Harmon took a sip of the wine he ordered. “Sylvanas needn’t know you are meeting King Wrynn. She is staying in the Sunreaver’s Sanctuary and only leaves for meetings with Thrall.” He tilted his head toward the Horde compound across the wide avenue from the inn.

“Isn’t Sylvanas responsible for Varian’s death?” Torque asked.

Harmon nodded, “But Anduin is a very level-headed young man and is putting the greater good of Azeroth ahead of his grief. Shall I set up the meeting?”

The five exchanged looks and came to silent agreement.

“Yes, at his convenience,” Arbeth said.

Harmon finished his wine and stood. “I’ll get back to you about the time and place of the meeting with King Wrynn.” He dropped some coin on the table and left.

They hadn’t heard from Harmon by the time they decided to eat supper. They were enjoying the fare when the tavern room went silent. The five looked up and saw a young, blonde-haired human in royal blue pants and cote and a purple sash with a gold lion on it; he couldn’t be even twenty. Two men in armor with a gold lion emblazoned on the front escorted him. People stood and bowed as he passed. He made his way straight for the table the five surprised adventurers occupied.

Bellon recovered first and stood. He bowed his head. “King Wrynn I presume.”

“You must be Billy Dekidt,” the youthful king responded brightly then turned his attention to the others in turn. “Torque Sharpshiv, Arbeth Williams, Luxraina Sunseeker, Priestess Cinnabar, it is an honor to meet the heroes of Bradensbrook.”

One of the tavern maids appeared with a chair for the king. He sat and indicated the others join him.

Bellon studied him a moment and recognized the power emanating off Wrynn, a power very much like Luxraina. He realized the young king was a paladin in his own right.

“I realize that most of you are members of the Horde and had no reason at all to help my people in Bradensbrook…”

“We couldn’t ignore them,” Torque interrupted almost defensively. “We aren’t barbarians.”

“No, you aren’t,” Wrynn assured. He smiled.

Bellon noted how sad the smile was for someone so young. His father’s death was still fresh.

Wrynn went on, “But, from what I understand, you fight ferociously, and your prowess has become almost legendary. I also heard how you took on a company of demons in Highmountain and Silvermoon Forest. Each time defeating the foe handily.”

“I blame Billy,” Torque announced. “He comes up with all the ideas.”

“So you are the strategist of this group,” Wrynn turned his attention to Bellon.

Bellon shrugged feeling himself flush. “I never intended to be. I just follow my instincts.”

“Your instincts appear to be good. I could use someone with your gifts on my staff.”

“You’re most kind, my lord; but I already have an offer I can’t refuse,” Bellon told Wrynn. “Besides, it isn’t just me.” He gestured at the other four. “We are a team, a well-oiled machine.”

“With a busted cog,” Arbeth mussed Torque’s mohawk.

“Heh,” Torque swatted her hand away.

“I should like to hear about your battle, the tactics you used,” Wrynn returned his attention to Bellon. “It might come in handy in the future.”

“Oh, well,” Bellon stalled to organize his thoughts. “It was really just a happy set of circumstances.” He glanced at Wrynn and saw a ray of hope in the eyes of the young, warrior king, who should still be enjoying his carefree youth. He proceeded to explain about the caldera and the lava tube and creating the flood. He left out Thealn and his entourage.

“Brilliant,” Wrynn gushed when Bellon finished. “You came up with all that on the fly? I am beyond impressed.” He laughed lightly and shook his head. “Lady Proudmore, as gifted as she is, could not devise a plan so quickly. Genn, maybe. You sure I couldn’t convince you to join my staff?”

“He’s got a honey and baby to go home to,” Torque explained helpfully.

Bellon saw a slight blush in Wrynn’s cheeks. He was so young even by human standards. “If I had no responsibilities, I would take you up on your offer.”

Wrynn shrugged. “I tried.” He stood and the five stood as well. “I shall let you get back to your meal. Thank you for allowing me this time to get to know you. I wish you well in your future endeavors.” He bid each farewell by name then turned and left.

“Did I just meet a real king?” Torque asked as he sank back into his seat. “Wow, I just met the Alliance king and lived to tell the tale. He’s a real nice fella.”

“He is so-o-o-o-o young,” Arbeth noticed with a shake of her head. “The poor lad.”

“He’s a paladin, like you Lux,” Bellon noted.

Luxraina shook her head, “Not like me; he is much more powerful. His connection to the Holy Light is electrifying.”

Cinnabar nodded her agreement. “I could feel it as well.”

********

Harmon knocked on Bellon’s door to announce Thrall and Khadgar were ready to meet with him. He led him to the first floor and out the back of the inn then up a second set of stairs. The Orc Shaman and Human mage waited in a small meeting room that overlooked a courtyard.

“Billy Dekidt, I am Archmage Khadgar” Khadgar stepped forward extending his hand. “It is an honor to meet the hero of Bradensbrook.”

“It was a team effort,” Bellon responded feeling awkward that he was being attributed all the success for the campaign.

“You and your team have acquitted yourselves well. Thrall, Shaman Earth-Warder of Azeroth,” the Orc introduced himself. “Your message said you had very important information.”

Bellon nodded and took a proffered chair. He explained why he had been sent to Azeroth, the details of his mission. He also reviewed his uncertainty against the empire negotiating with Sylvanas alone. Lastly, he explained the concerns of the Chiss Ascendancy.

The two leaders stared at him somewhat confused. “So what is it you are proposing, that we NOT enter into a treaty with your Empire?” Thrall asked.

“No, enter into the treaty but do so in a manner that secures Azeroth’s continued autonomy. They will help you with this war in exchange for you helping them with theirs. The Chiss Ascendancy negotiated a treaty with the Empire that guaranteed our autonomy. No Imperial may set foot on any Ascendancy planet without express permission of the Council of Families. I bring you those negotiating techniques. I also suggest that as reasonable as King Wrynn appears and… well… dedicated Lady Sylvanas seems to be, you two be the negotiators. The two of you represent all that is good about Azeroth and have the influence to urge acceptance of the treaty as you negotiate it.” Bellon set a data disk on the table. “Everything you need to know is on this disk.” He pulled out his holocommunicator and inserted the disk.

Over the next two hours, the three reviewed the information on the disk provided by the Council of Families. Bellon gave them as much information as he could about Darth Vowrawn, who, he hoped, would speak for the Empire. He played several recordings showing the efficacy of Imperial weapons technology. Both Thrall and Khadgar took copious notes.

When they were finished, Thrall studied Bellon over peaked fingers. “Lady Sylvanas is going to be upset when she learns you brought this to us and not her.”

Bellon shrugged. “I have come to appreciate Azeroth and its people. I want everyone to benefit, not just one little corner. Besides, Sylvanas is as ruthless, devious, and psychotic as most Siths; I have come to not trust her to put Azeroth first.”

Thrall nodded. “You are being very wise. I can handle Sylvanas; she will come around and both the Horde Warchief and the Supreme Commander of the Alliance shall be in attendance when the treaty is negotiated. I will ensure that the good of all Azeroth is placed first.”

Bellon stood. “Thank you. I will have left the planet by the time the negotiations take place. I wish you success.” He bowed and left the room. 


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With an irresistible urge to destroy the Burning Legion, the group heads for Stormheim. Arbeth heard her brother is there and Billy would like trying to fight WITH Worgen soldiers instead of against them.  
> Billy comes up with another brilliant plan to dislodge the Legion from the Halls of Valor.

“That was a lo-ong meeting; now what?” Torque asked when Bellon finally joined them for lunch.

“We get back to beating the crap out of the Burning Legion,” Arbeth announced laying several notices on the table. “We can go back to Val’shara or Aszuna or venture off to Stormheim.” She paused nervously. “I heard through the grapevine that my brother, Trevor, is in Stormheim.”

“The Worgen we freed from Shadowfang Keep?” Torque gaped. “Wasn’t he fighting with Lord Crowley?”

“The Gilneas Liberation Front, yes; I guess they also answered the call to fight off the Burning Legion.” Arbeth’s response was acerbic.

“At least you know he’s still alive,” Luxraina assured.

“But for how long?” Arbeth buried her face in her hands. “He’s my baby brother; the only family I have left.”

Cinnabar lay a paw on Arbeth’s shoulder. “He’s an adult; his fate is in his hands, not yours. But, nothing says we can’t go help him. I vote we go to Stormheim.”

“Me too,” Bellon announced.

“Me three.” Torque slammed the table with his hand.

“Me four,” Luxraina chuckled. She picked up the notice with the header ‘Hero’s Call to Stormheim.’ “It says we should meet up with Commander Lorna Crowley at Crowley’s Overlook.”

“Commander?” Torque asked a little nervously.

“She commands the Gilneas Brigade,” Arbeth volunteered.

“I’m beginning to…” Torque was cringing.

“Shut it,” Bellon snapped. “I’ve been on the receiving end of a Worgen’s attack. It’ll be nice to be on the same side. Give me time to figure out the coordinates and we’ll be on our way.” He took the notice, which had a map showing the location of Crowley’s Overlook, and headed up to his room.

While he was calculating the portal, the others hurried about Dalaran stocking up on supplies. When they gathered on the green next to the Violet Citadel, it was about one hour from sunset. They had agreed that Cinnabar and Bellon would go through first, then the other three. That would give Commander Crowley a moment to be prepared for the members of the Horde responding to her call for aid.

Torque opened the portal and Cinnabar and Bellon stepped through. To Arbeth’s dismay, Dr. Nope followed Bellon. Arbeth and Luxraina waited several minutes before following; lastly Torque stepped through closing the portal.

Bellon had the opportunity to see the woman smile at the sight of the Pandaren Priestess. She started in confusion at Bellon and eyed Dr. Nope uncertainly.

“I’m not from around here,” he quipped and led Cinnabar’s yak and Spot aside. Cinnabar was explaining the rest of the group were citizens of the Horde but they were still coming to help.

Once all five were arrayed in front of her, Crowley studied them. “You’re the heroes of Bradensbrook, aren’t you?”

“Our reputation precedes us,” Torque cheered happily. “You are 100% correct, lovely lady.”

“Never mind him; he has the couth of a rutting boar,” Bellon explained. “But he’s a very capable mage.” He introduced Luxraina, Arbeth, and Torque. “Also, Commander, Arbeth heard her brother is here possibly fighting with you, his name is Trevor Williams.”

Crowley thought a bit then nodded. “He’s commanding a company attacking demons dug in around the Halls of Valor. That’s about 100 miles east of here. I’m sure if you live long enough, you’ll run into him.”

Arbeth brightened. “He’s commanding a company?” There was obvious pride in her tone.

“I didn’t know he had family, much less who were Forsaken,” Crowley noted.

Arbeth frowned. “After Arthas returned to Lordaeron with his Deathknights and Scourge, I joined the Scarlet Crusade. If it weren’t for our sacrifices, Arthas would have reached Pyrewood and Gilneas. Not even that magnificent wall would have stopped him. You wouldn’t have lived long enough for the curse to affect you.”

Bellon laid a calming hand on her shoulder. “We’re here to fight the Burning Legion, not each other,” he reminded both women.

“I’m sorry,” Arbeth apologized. “Trevor was just a little boy when I joined the Scarlet Crusade. I missed seeing him grow up. I wasn’t there when my parents died. I was a mindless minion of Sylvanas, who claimed she was giving us our free will.”

“But you attacked Gilneas,” Crowley countered bitterly.

“As I said, she CLAIMED she was giving us back our free will. Trust me, that was not the case.” Arbeth subconsciously rubbed her temple as if she could hear Sylvanas in her head.

It was apparent that Crowley was battling with her prejudice before she nodded. “The Burning Legion has the Vrykul stirred up and their old gods seem to be waking up in a bad mood. King Greymane is in Greywatch, that’s where your brother is, and I’m sure he could use your help. However, before you run off, I ask that you help me secure this area.” She explained how precarious her position was and that she was cut off from the rest of the Gilneas Brigade.

Bellon glanced at the darkening sky. “I’ve got pretty good night vision. If you don’t mind, I’ll reconnoiter tonight.”

Crowley blinked in surprise then smiled. “Please feel free to ask my scouts what they’ve observed.” She indicated a small group of her soldiers in camouflage camped away from her fighters.

As the others set up the camp, Bellon went to talk to the scouts. “Oh, for crissakes, Dr. Nope; go back to Arbeth!” he growled when the scouts gave him wide-eyed looks and he realized he had been followed. The spider chittered before hurrying back to his mistress.

That night, using the locations given to him by the scouts, Bellon made his way down a narrow path from the camp site and crept up on several Legion camps. He was pleased to find they were fairly small though still able to isolate Crowley by virtue of the single path off the heights. They had also managed to hide their camps from her view by use of magic. He marked their locations on a map and returned to the camp announcing himself to the Gilnean guard.

“You sure that spider isn’t yours?” the guard asked.

Bellon regarded Dr. Nope standing at his side. “He’s the Ranger’s but he does seem to like me. Besides he was hungry and had himself a sloppy Legion picket for dinner.” He patted the spider. “He’s a VERY silent killer.”

The guard shuddered at the thought and let them pass.

The next morning, Bellon devised a plan where Torque and Crowley’s two mages would dispel the magic hiding the legion camps. That would allow her to fire on them with her cannon and long bowmen. Then the infantry could attack. He explained the need to decapitate the dead and burn their corpses.

Crowley shook her head at the simplicity of the plan. She might have come up with it herself if she had been able to target the camps.

By that evening, the assault was over; She moved her camp to the base of the path. Now she could send a courier to Greymane asking for support to hold the position.

The next morning, she showed the party the best route to Greywatch and sent them on their way. They had debated making a portal but decided to take the long route in order the clear out any Burning Legion they came upon.

If they hadn’t run into any resistance, the trip might have taken no more than five days. As it was, it took seven days for them to reach the village of Valdisdall; it sat on high ground looking across a ravine between it and the Halls of Valor. A path led off to the east sloping down to the ravine. The Halls sat on a promontory accessible only by a bridge over the ravine. They could hear the clash of fighting.

Arbeth saw smoke rising in the distance to the east. When she was told that was Greywatch, she resisted every urge to hurry there on her own.

The person in charge of the encampment was one of the Vrykul, named Thorignur. He suggested they wait a bit, that Greymane himself would probably be back very soon. Sure enough, about an hour later, the fighting seemed to ease and a group of soldiers wearing Gilnean tabards made their way back carrying their dead and wounded. Bringing up the rear was a stocky-built older man in well-worn but rich array. Thorignur called him over.

“Genn, these are the Heroes of Bradensbrook,” Thurignur prefaced indicating the party of five.

Arbeth kept to the back of the group letting Bellon do all the talking.

Bellon nodded his head in response and introduced himself and his fellow campaigners. “We heard you could use some help,” he said.

Greymane studied them suspiciously but admitted, “Lorna told me what you did for her. I’m grateful; she is like a daughter to me.”

“I have to admit our arrival is a little duplicitous. You see, one of us has a brother who, as we understand, is a company commander in this brigade,” Bellon explained further. “Trevor Williams?”

Greymane nodded and his eyes fell immediately upon Arbeth. He looked at a man in armor moving among the wounded they had brought back. “Commander Williams,” he shouted.

The man straightened and turned. “Yes, my lord?”

“Your sister has arrived to lend us her aid.” Greymane announced.

Trevor hesitated and stared as Arbeth stepped forward, uncertainly. He crossed the ground with amazing speed and embraced her.

“Well, that’s happy,” Torque noted with a grin. “Let’s help Greymane figure out how to win this fight while those two get reacquainted.”

Dr. Nope didn’t liked Worgen, even in human form, so kept close to Bellon as his mistress was led off to meet the soldiers of her brother’s company. Bellon absently stroked the spider’s back as he listened to the general explain the situation.

“They kind-a have you by the short-curlies, don’t they,” Bellon noted when Greymane finished. “Sitting on that hill with just the one access.”

Greymane stifled a chuckle and nodded. “And at least two portals to bring reinforcements through.”

“Bastards are getting crafty,” Torque snorted.

“No one ever said they were stupid,” Luxraina pointed out.

“This will surely challenge your gift, Billy,” Cinnabar told him. She smiled at his frown. “You do have a gift as Ofain and Daiva said; deny it all you wish, it is there.”

The smile that crept across Bellon’s face as he looked to the heavens was very unnerving. “Excuse me a moment.” He hurried from the meeting and pulled out his personal holocommunicator. “Twovee, is the Chiss Ascendancy vessel still in orbit?”

“No, good kind master,” the mechanical voice responded.

“Are Lord Hypocritus’ or Darth Phallus’s ships still in orbit.”

“Lord Hypocritus’ ship left orbit weeks ago. Darth Phallus ship is still here, sir.”

“Patch me through to the commander.” Bellon ordered and waited.

“Commander Araham, who is this?”

“This is Major Bellon, Imperial Intelligence; I’m the agent Darth Phallus met planet side.”

“Where is he, what have you done to him?” the ship’s commander demanded.

“Well, it seems he is in terrible danger,” Bellon put as much concern into the words as he could without laughing. “I can only surmise that he has been captured and his communicator has been confiscated. I suggest an airstrike on the enemy camp.”

“An airstrike could kill him,” the commander pointed out.

“I can see the position; his attackers would have taken him to their underground prison. He should be safe, if he still lives,” Bellon added with a worried tone.

There was a pause as Bellon was certain the commander battled with his conscious. “Very well, what are the coordinates,” the commander demanded.

Bellon smiled and waved at Torque who was watching from where the group sat with the Gilnean king. He gave the coordinates and waited.

“Everyone duck,” he shouted and hit the dirt as streaks of what seemed to be meteors shot toward the planet surface and precisely struck the terrace around the Halls of Valor.

“Cease fire,” he shouted over the holo; and the attack stopped. “Let’s go.” He jumped to his feet and lept onto Spot.

The others followed. The Worgen shape-shifted, dropped to all fours, and raced across the bridge. The attack had been precise and the Halls themselves were intact.

As the five, followed by the Gilnean Brigade, arrived, they were met by the smoldering remains of the Legion forces. In the entry to the Halls stood a Vrykul and a blue dragon looking confused and dazed.

“Well, let’s see them recover from THAT!” Torque hopped off his trike and ran for what looked like portal. He half ducked through and tossed several leftover seaforium charges; at the same time, Luxraina lobbed a couple into another portal.

Bellon detonated the charges and the portals winked out.

Greymane looked around at the cleared terrace. “What the HELL was that?”

“Since Darth Phallas ran off with Daiva, it was the least he could do to accomplish the end game of my mission here,” Bellon put his hands on his hips and studied the situation with satisfaction.

His communicator beeped. “Have you found Darth Phallas?” the commander demanded.

“I’m looking, I’m looking,” Bellon responded dutifully frantic. “It’s… shkkkkkkkkk many… crklcrklcrkl lost… KHHHHHHHHHHH!” He turned off the communicator and ignored further attempts to contact him.

Torque was rolling on the ground laughing. Luxraina shook her head not sure she supported such a blatant lie.

Cinnabar sighed. “You are going to be in so-o-o much trouble, Billy.”

Arbeth smiled and patted Bellon’s shoulder. “Well done, Billy.”


	27. chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darth Vowrawn himself has arrived, and he's not too happy with Billy's flippancy.

The bombardment of the Legion beachhead had happened the night before. Trevor Williams, in his human form, sat on a log shaking his head. Genn Greymane stood on a bluff looking at the still smoldering terraces around the Halls of Valor. He turned and looked at Bellon.

“How did you do that?” he demanded for the hundredth time.

“Space-to-ground missiles,” Bellon repeated simply. When his holocommunicator beeped, he checked the sending frequency then ignored it.

“Why don’t they just call Dearth Phallic?” Torque asked.

Bellon dug into his backpack and produced an identical communicator. “Phallas doesn’t have it with him. I think he dropped it; I hope he didn’t leave it on purpose. Anyway, I found it when I tried to contact him after he followed Daiva through her gate.”

“My Lord, the Legion isn’t going to give up over that one defeat.” Cinnabar noted to Greymane. “What do we do next?”

“We hope that Master Dekidt’s people arrive and negotiate a treaty so that we can bombard any of the Legion access sites,” the Gilnean king responded.

“Billy, I need to speak with you, privately,” Arbeth leaned toward him and whispered.

“Excuse us,” Bellon stood and led her away from the others.

“I can’t stay here,” she gasped out as if in pain. “Sylvanas is in my head insisting that I kill Greymane and Trevor.” She was near tears. “I can’t; I just can’t. I don’t want to obey her any more. I want her out of my head.” Her shoulders sagged. “I wish I were truly dead.”

“How does she manage the control?” Bellon asked.

Arbeth shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe through the Valkyr? She has some inexplicable control over them and they do her bidding, which is to make Forsaken out of plague infected humans.”

“Well, we’ve done all the damage we can here. Perhaps we should move along; Stormheim must have other Legion outposts we can trash. We’ll make our excuses and leave today.”

She smiled relieved, “Thank you. Lux and Cin seem happy to help the Worgen, but I can only ignore Sylvanas for a short time.”

By mid day, the party was packed and riding north. Arbeth had given her brother a tearful good-bye and explained to him why she had to leave. To her surprise, Greymane had said he intended to put an end to ‘what ailed Arbeth.’ She didn’t want to think about what that meant.

They spent the next eleven days traveling the wilds of Stormheim killing Legion demons wherever they found them. During that time, they heard that Sylvanas and Greymane had fought in a temple to the goddess Hella; Greymane managed to sever the Banshee Queen’s connection to the Valkyr but had suffered near-mortal wounds as a result.

Arbeth smiled at the news. “That explains the sudden silence of the voice in my head.” She sighed. “Maybe now I can happily reconnect with Trevor.”

Torque patted her knee. “You deserve to be reunited with your brother. You two are the only family you have left.” He shrugged. “I have five siblings, their spouses, and their 27 offspring.”

“You also have a bounty on your head from your dear friend Gallywix,” Luxraina reminded him.

“That reminds me, I should pay him another visit.” Torque’s eyes glinted deviously.

Bellon reflexively responded to his holocommunicator but his eyes lit up and he keyed it open, “Twovee,”

“Cipher Nine!” A figure swiftly replaced the protocol droid.

“Darth Vowrawn, how good of you to come,” Bellon smiled cheekily.

“Your insolence will no longer be tolerated.” The Dark Council member reached out his hand as if to Force choke Bellon.

“Oh, stop that,” Bellon snapped irately. He didn’t seem to notice Vowrawn’s shocked expression as he plowed on. “You and Keeper sent me here over three months ago to ascertain how best to negotiate a treaty between the Empire and Azeroth. I have dutifully followed your instructions to the letter. Twice, however, you sent incompetent sycophants in your place. I realize you were dealing with matters which needed your personal attention; but you could have at least sent someone with the attention span of a gnat and the brains of a worm. Both your toadies have gone missing, off the grid, into the wilderness, unlocatable. Now, do you want to hear my advice or not?”

Torque’s eyes got huge and he puffed out his cheeks as if holding back words. Arbeth spun and wandered off humming tunelessly. Luxraina and Cinnabar moved to stand defensively behind Bellon. Dr. Nope chittered angrily at the communicator.

Vowrawn seemed to pull his temper into check before answering. “Inform me of the best landing zone and I shall meet with you and this Lady Sylvanas.”

“That is the point, you won’t be meeting with her. I’ve arranged for you to meet with Earth-Warder Thrall and Archmage Khadgar; two respected representatives of both factions. I will explain when we meet.” Bellon looked around. “There is an open field about two-and-a-half kilometers southeast of my position. I shall proceed there and contact you. You will be able to get the coordinates from my position. Cipher Nine, out.”

Torque exhaled in a whoosh. “You are playing with fire, my friend. His was not a happy face. He looked rather like Gallywix just before I sheeped him. Isn’t he like one of your big, high, mucky-mucks?”

“I am quite fed up with the Sith sense of entitlement,” Bellon snapped as he mounted Spot. “I’ll be back in a jiff.”

“I’m going with you,” Cinnabar was mounting her yak. “In case he tries to punish you or something through your do-hicky the way Phallic - er - Phallas did.”

Once in the middle of the open field, Bellon keyed his communicator. It went directly to Darth Vowrawn’s terminal on his ship. Bellon recognized the bridge of a Harrower-class dreadnaught behind Vowrawn. Oh, the damage that could do to the Burning Legion.

“Cipher Nine, my navigator has noted your position and plotted a course for my shuttle to land. I shall arrive in 17 standard hours. You will meet me with the respect due my position.” Vowrawn ended the call.

Bellon shrugged “I guess he decided he wasn’t going to try to punish me through the terminal; that didn’t work in camp, it wouldn’t work here.” he pocketed his communicator.

“Why didn’t it work?” Cinnabar asked as they headed back up to the camp. “It worked before.”

Bellon grinned. “One of two reasons; the first way is to use psychological suggestion to convince the target that he, or she, is being choked. I can ignore that. The second is with an actual application of the Force; the laws of physics actually preclude that from being possible.”

“How do you figure that?” Cinnabar asked in surprise.

“Space is a void. There is no Force, magic if you will, in a void. The Force flows between all living things. I remembered my baby sis telling me that once before she… anyway it was in one of her last letters to me.”

Cinnabar nodded her understanding. “In other words he would have to be in physical contact with the magic of Azeroth to attack you physically. So what are you going to do when he gets here?”

Bellon shrugged. “If he kills me, I will revive. I will finish my assignment and leave.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” Cinnabar admitted sadly. “I don’t think any one of us wants you to leave.”

Bellon gave her a sympathetic look. “You four have become very good friends. I don’t have many friends whom I trust with my life. I would stay, but I miss Loa so-o-o much.”

It was a somber evening around the campfire as the five realized their time together was drawing to an end. They reminisced about their adventures together, laughing at some of the more ridiculous moments. Dr. Nope even seemed to sense Bellon’s impending departure and snuggled down against his leg.

Mid morning, they were all at the field, having packed up their camp. They would be ready to head for Dalaran as soon as Torque created the portal.

The shuttle landed folding its wings.

“That’s big,” Torque noted. “Bigger than Phallic’s.”

“Yep, Vowrawn is that much more important,” Bellon noted.

“Try not to piss him off,” Luxraina suggested as the passenger ramp descended.

A group of soldiers ran down and positioned themselves in a semi circle, some trained their weapons on the group.

“By the way, Darth Vowrawn is what we call a true Sith; he’s of the race Sith so isn’t human,” Bellon noted just before a tall, trim figure in red and silver robes stepped out of the ship followed by three other Sith, two Juggernauts and an inquisitor.

“Oh, he’s purple,” Torque noted with interest.

“I would say more magenta,” Arbeth commented.

Luxraina shook her head. “No, more the dark of guts spilling…”

“Shut it.” Bellon stepped clear of the group. “Darth Vowrawn, welcome to Azeroth. May I introduce my traveling companions?”

“You weren’t sent to make friends,” Vowrawn growled as he signaled the soldiers to be at ease. “However, you may introduce me.”

“May I present, Arbeth Williams, Torque Sharpshive, Luxraina Sunseeker, and Cinnabar. This, my friends, is Darth Vowrawn, a member of the Imperial Dark Council.” Bellon graciously indicated his friends and the Sith.

Torque bowed grandiosely. “It is my honor, most honorable honorableness.”

Bellon rolled his eyes as the three females simply bowed their heads in acknowledgment.

“Where’s your uniform?” Vowrawn demanded.

“On my ship where I left it per your orders received prior to departure from Drummond Kaas. Torque make the portal. Darth Vowrawn, we will depart for Dalaran as soon as the portal is ready. Is your entourage coming as well?”

Vowrawn scowled and leaned in to hiss in Bellon’s face. “Your insubordination is being duly noted; you will face disciplinary action upon your return to Kaas City.” He straightened. “Yes of course they are coming.”

“You might want to tell your pilot to return the shuttle to the mother ship. We don’t want the Burning Legion to get a gander at the least of what we can field.” Bellon ignored the threat completely. He could feel Vowrawn’s frustration rising. Once Vowrawn had issued the order for the shuttle to depart, Bellon continued, “It might be a couple of days before you can actually meet with Thrall and Khadgar. That will give me time to explain the change in plans. Azeroth is very strong with the Force, as I’m sure you’ve already noticed. Wouldn’t you want ALL that strength focused against the Republic, not a mere portion while the other portion is in conflict here?”

Vowrawn recognized the logic of that. He could sense the power surging through him from the planet; each being before him was nearly pulsating with Force power. He suddenly realized that Bellon’dfrey’theris was also visibly imbued with the Force. That threw him off a moment; the Chiss had not been Force sensitive when he left Drummond Kaas but seemed to be now. He had never heard of a Force Blind becoming Force Sensitive before.

“Also, there is the issue with the Burning Legion,” Luxraina pointed out. “We really cannot help anyone until they are gone.” She pointed at Argos in the southwestern sky.

Vowrawn skillfully masked his surprise at seeing the planet. He chastised himself for not noticing it immediately upon arrival.

“What are their capabilities?” Vowrawn asked studying the planet.

“Not much against one of your space assaults,” Torque piped up still holding the portal open.

Bellon explained the destruction of the Legion base at the Halls of Valor.

“Are we going through or not? I can’t hold this open indefinitely; someone in the Kirin Tor is bound to notice it and… shit. Do that.” The portal blinked out.

“I have an idea,” Arbeth spoke up. “Why don’t we show these people what the Burning Legion is all about?”

Bellon looked at Vowrawn. Vowrawn rubbed one of his chin spikes. “I think that might be an excellent idea, Miss Williams. However, I do not wish to detract too long from my original purpose.”

“There’s that small group we heard about raiding local farmers,” Cinnabar noted, pointing vaguely northeast.

“Yeah, one more butt-kicking for old time’s sake,” Torque suggested eagerly.

Vowrawn noted how they all looked to Bellon, who shrugged and nodded. Without further word, the group started moving in that direction. Since Vowrawn and his guards didn’t have mounts, they decided they would all walk. Torque cast a shrink spell on his trike and stuffed it in his backpack.

“I have never seen such a use of the Force.” Vowrawn recognized that Torque’s use of the Force was probably the most akin to his own. He would soon see how the others manipulated the Force.

“Oh, yeah, I call it Shrinky-Dink; made it up myself. Not bad, eh?” Torque haphazardly explained. “Comes in real handy.”

Luxraina laughed. “First time he tried it, he forgot to make the spell permanent. It wore off and nearly squashed him, not to mention exploded his backpack.”

“That sucker is heavy, it took all of us to get it off him,” Arbeth explained.

“Make it permanent? How do you do that?” Vowrawn asked.

“Tie off the loose ends.” Torque shrugged. “I’m trying to figure out how to make transmutation permanent. Imagine Gallywix a sheep permanently.” He laughed gleefully, rubbing his big hands.

Bellon chuckled and patted Torque on the head. “You’ll figure it out, little buddy. He can’t issue a kill order on you if all he can do is bleat.”

“I think you should figure out how to make a portal permanent,” Cinnabar suggested. “It would make travelling between two cities so easy.”

“But it would leave a city open to invasion should the other city be occupied by enemy forces,” Bellon noted.

“I can see both sides,” Vowrawn said. “I think for security reasons it is better that a portal not be permanent. You seem to be able to open one when you wish.”

“Yeah, they did shut mine down for being open too long; but, making one is taxing. I won’t be able to create another for at least 16 hours.”

After a couple of hours, they came upon a burnt-out farm with the corpses of the farmers and animals left to rot. Soon after following the obvious trail left by the demons, they came upon the perpetrators of the crime.

Vowrawn had a chance to study the demons before they attacked. He stood back with the long-range attackers as the three Sith with him lept into the fray beside Luxraina; her sword and their lightsabers cut down the demons with ease. He could feel the Force surging through him from something Cinnabar was doing; it seemed to keep everyone from tiring and healed their injuries. He noticed Bellon’s unerring accuracy with the home-cobbled rifle while his guards weren’t so accurate with their state-of-the-art blasters. Even though he didn’t take part in it, he found the fight invigorating after being cooped up on the ship.

“I understand your need to stop these creatures,” he announced that evening over their meal. “I believe the Empire would be more than willing to add its muscle to your fight.” He looked across the fire at Bellon. “So what happened to Lord Hypocritus and Darth Phallas?”

“Hippo ran off with a warlock named Zar Ma’zhin to kill dwarves and Phallic got the hots for Daiva,” Torque explained.

“Elaboration would be appreciated,” Vowrawn grumbled with distaste. “I studied your reports, Cipher Nine, please elucidate.”

Bellon put his hand over Torque’s mouth before he could ask what Vowrawn was saying. He reviewed in detail what led up to Hypocritus’ battle with Zar Ma’zhin and how he had gone ahead to inform Sylvanas of the delay then received word that Hypocritus and Zar Ma’zhin had decided to attack the Dwarven Wildhammer clan. All efforts to contact him via communicator had gone unanswered leaving Bellon to believe Hypocritus didn’t have a communicator. He then explained Phallas’ infatuation with Daiva Springday and how he had apparently lost his communicator before following her.

“Perhaps your ship’s sensors can pick them out of the populous.” Bellon shrugged at the hopelessness of that idea. “If they weren’t human, it would be a lot easier; but there are millions of humans on this planet.”

That evening Bellon sent his first report in weeks.

Report 27: Day 94: Darth Vowrawn. At long last, a competent negotiator has arrived. It was a joy to see Darth Vowrawn himself step off the shuttle and trod upon Azerothian soil. Over the next few days, I shall be briefing him on the parties with whom he will be negotiating. Once the meeting is scheduled, I shall depart Azeroth and return to Imperial soil. Cipher Nine out.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy and the gang take Darth Vowrawn to Dalaran and the first person Vowrawn sees is Phallas. That reunion doesn't go well.  
> Billy's friends come up with a plan to save him from ending up in Shadow Town, the Imperial prison on Nar Shadaa.

Vowrawn followed Bellon through the portal and stepped into the warm sun and clean streets of Dalaran; he noticed immediately the change in altitude and popped his ears. He studied the different races hurrying about: Orcs, Elves, Trolls, Gnomes, Goblins, Draenei, Pandarans, Humans… “Darth Phallas!” He strode angrily toward the human in the company of a tiny armored woman.

“My Lord Vowrawn.” Phallas’ eyes popped as he cringed at his master’s anger. “I…” He didn’t finish as his throat closed and he was lift off his feet. He dropped suddenly and unceremoniously into a heap on the street.

Daiva had shot out a whip that caught Vowrawn around his feet and yanked him into range of her two swords. She pinned him to the ground with the whip and placed the tips of her swords at his throat and heart. “Don’t you dare hurt my widdle Fally-wally.”

At the same instant, one of Vowrawn’s juggernauts started toward the Deathknight raising his saber.

A vortex of icy air froze the three Sith and Vowrawn’s guards in place. A second blast of ice encircled the group incapacitating them further. Lastly, frost exploded around the first juggernaut killing him instantly. Torque glared at the remaining Sith and imperial troopers. “Anyone else want to attack a friend of mine?”

Bellon patted Torque on the head. “Daiva, it’s great to see you; you missed some awesome fights. Mind letting up the emissary of the Emperor? He’s here to negotiate an alliance, not be your pin cushion.” Bellon strode up and offered Vowrawn a hand up once Daiva released the Sith. “Darth Vowrawn, this is Deathknight Daiva Springday.” He turned to the shaken Human. “Hey Phallas, long time no see, or hear, or anything. Oh, you lost this.” He slammed the extra communicator into Phallas’ chest. “Torque, please let them go.”

“That was extremely irresponsible of you, running off like that,” Cinnabar’s tone was one used with a naughty child and she shook one of her claws at Phallas. “If it hadn’t been Daiva you followed, we would have been worried sick.”

“Sheep!”

“Baaaaaaaaa,” Phallas protested in shock.

“What?” Vowrawn stared at his subordinate. “Put him back!”

“It’ll wear off,” Bellon explained with calm. “Daiva, where are you two staying?”

“I suppose you do deserve it, dearie,” Daiva shook her head as she patted Phallas the sheep on his head. “You did abandon your duty. We’re at the Hero’s Welcome.”

“When he recovers, join us at the Legerdemain,” Bellon headed for the inn.

Vowrawn stared at the dead juggernaut and his frozen entourage. “You killed Lord Wraith,” he turned on Torque.

“Try anything and you’ll join him,” Luxraina warned glaring at Vowrawn. “Cin, please resurrect the fool?”

Vowrawn stared as the priestess chanted and the Sith shakely climbed to his feet. “What about Lord Phallas?”

“He’ll be fine,” Bellon assured Vowrawn again. “The spell lasts about an hour. Daiva will keep him safe.”

“Fally-wally?” Torque suddenly burst out laughing. “Those two have it bad. I wonder what he calls her.”

“My little munchy-kin,” Arbeth simpered. “Are we going to ask them to stay with us, because if we do, I think they’ll make me vomit.”

“Where Phallas stays is completely up to Darth Vowrawn,” Bellon explained.

“He’s DARTH Phallas,” Vowrawn reminded between grit teeth.

“Nah, he’s Dearth Phallic,” Torque corrected. “Any respect he should have was lost when he bolted after Daiva like a love-sick sheep.”

“Torque is right,” Bellon said. “Any respect I might have had for him is gone, like a thief in the night.” He turned into the inn and approached the inn keeper.

“How poetic,” Torque noted.

Bellon arranged for Darth Vowrawn and his men to have the top floor of rooms to themselves. As they had before, he and Torque would share a room and the ladies would share a room on the second floor. He then announced he was going to find Harmon and arrange the meeting time and place for the treaty negotiations.

“You were going to brief me,” Vowrawn reminded Bellon.

“Plenty of time for that. I thought you might like to settle in; you’ll be here a while. Oh, there’s a small landing pad on the northeast side of the city that could accommodate a small shuttle; that is if you have anyone else who is to be part of your team.”

Bellon returned about an hour later. He found the entire group sitting around a table in the tavern area. Phallas stood at Vowrawn’s left shoulder, his head down. Daiva sat just to Vowrawn’s left, near her lover. Bellon noticed the complete lack of any conversation.

“Well, aren’t we a lively bunch.” He grabbed an empty chair from a nearby table.

“Thank the Titans you’re here, Billy,” Arbeth groaned and smiled with relief. She shifted her chair to make room for him.

“I have nothing to say to this rabble,” Vowrawn snapped. He was suddenly and inexplicably flung from his chair. He glared at each face trying to ascertain which Force user did that.

All expressions were taught and decidedly unfriendly.

“Daiva,” Bellon narrowed his eyes on the Deathknight. “He has every right to be angry at Phallas; the man patently disobeyed orders. You, as well as anyone, know the need to quell insubordination within the ranks.”

“How did you know it was her?” Vowrawn demanded brushing off his robes.

“Because it was from her direction you were hit.” Bellon pointed to Vowrawn’s left side. “Your robes were smashed by the impact of the force.”

Vowrawn stared in surprise. He wondered how Bellon could have seen that in the instant of impact. He cleared his throat. “So when do I meet these two leaders,” he drawled “leaders” condescendingly.

“Three days from now; they are currently aboard a Draenei ship orbiting Argos,” Bellon explained. “Harmon sent them word that you have arrived; they will be returning _poste haste_.” He leaned back and sighed smiling. “My work here is done.”

“You still have to brief me,” Vowrawn reminded tersely.

“Right you are,” Bellon grinned. “Be nice, be respectful, the two men you are meeting are your equals in power.”

“Not now, Billy” Torque groaned. “I don’t want to hear it. Let’s talk about - I don’t know, fun stuff.”

Vowrawn stood abruptly. “I have no interest in your petty musings. Darth Phallas, with me.” He eyed Daiva. “We have no further need of your company. You may return to whatever hellhole you crawled out of.”

Daiva glared back. “You are treading a thin line, Mr. High-and-mighty. I would turn you into shark chum this instant if not for Azeroth’s need for this treaty.” Her glare followed Vowrawn as he led Phallas up the stairs to his quarters.

“Billy, I overheard Foulran tell some of his men-at-arms that they are to escort you back to Damn Kast on his ship.” Torque looked worried. “You won’t get to see Loa if they do that.”

“Torque, can you make a Simulacrum?” Arbeth asked.

“I can,” Daiva’s glare turned to a mischievous grin. “Torque, I need you to make a light articulated frame for the body and head. Billy, I need you to provide a paper mask of your face. Arbeth, I need about five animal hides. I’ll need about… how much to do you weigh, Billy?

“Uh, 70 kilos, that’s about 154 pounds?” he answered confused.

“I’ll need about twenty pounds of leaves and fur and animal feces to stuff the body,” Daiva directed.

Torque hurried up stairs to get his engineering tools and metal supply.

“What’s the animal poop for?” Arbeth asked.

“The smell,” Daiva explained sweetly.

“I don’t smell like animal shit!” Bellon protested.

Cinnabar giggled, “No, no, no; when someone figures out it isn’t you, and they will figure it out, they will break the Simulacrum and release the wonderful aroma of lukewarm, weeks-old excrement. I’ll take care of that, I know just the excrement to get!” She stood and left.

Arbeth snatched up her bow and hurried out as well.

“So what is the purpose of all this?” Bellon asked.

Luxraina laid a hoof on his shoulder. “We will let them take the Simulacrum to Dru… whatever, not you. Where’s your holo thingie; that will provide a perfect image of your face. I have some parchment in my pack. Be back in a jiff.” She hurried up the stairs to her room.

“What are you going to do, Daiva?” Bellon asked.

“I need to write the enchantment that makes it all work. Have everyone meet me at the Engineer Shop in the mage quarter.” She hopped out of her chair and left the inn.

Bellon was left alone in the tavern of the inn. He looked around with a sense of trepidation. The idea was crazy; but then this was crazy Azeroth and crazy was the norm and crazy worked. He chuckled at the thought of some unknown feces spilling out on the pristine walkways of Kaas City.

********

Bellon stared at the cobbled thing supporting the paper mask of his grinning face. “That doesn’t look anything like me. How will it fool even the most stupid of blind men?”

They were in a backroom of the Dalaran engineering shop.

“Enchantment,” Daiva said writing feverishly on a piece of vellum. “I need you to talk; if it speaks it needs to sound like you.”

“Uh, okay,” Bellon wracked his brain for something to say. He remembered a conversation in a Chiss book he read in his youth. He began speaking in Cheunh.

“That should do,” Daiva stopped him. “If they speak to it, it will respond in a language hopefully they don’t know.”

“Now what?” Bellon asked.

“We’ll keep it hidden until they are ready to take you back to prison,” Torque explained cheerfully, “then switch it and you. Those dolts of Foulran’s won’t know the difference.”

Daiva finished what she was writing and reviewed it with satisfaction. She handed it to Torque. “Okay, mage, will this do?”

Torque read the runes she had encrypted and nodded with satisfaction. “Put it on Billy 2 and let’s test it.”

“Who do we test it on?” Bellon asked.

“You stay here, I’ll take it back to the Legerdemain and pass it by a couple of the guards.” Luxraina activated the Simulacrum and lead it out the door. Torque and Cinnabar trotted after her.

Bellon waited impatiently with Arbeth and Daiva. He paced nervously as the other two cleaned up all evidence of their work.

“Once Vowrawn’s men leave with Billy 2, you can leave,” Arbeth said.

Bellon stopped his pacing. “They won’t leave my ship here. Either Vowrawn will commandeer it for his use, or they’ll take it with them. They can use a tractor beam to haul it aboard the dreadnaught.”

“How will you meet up with your Chiss friends? They can’t come get you; Vowrawn will notice their ship. He’ll still have Phallas’ ship,” Arbeth worried.

“I think I know someone,” Billy’s smile suddenly changed to a frown. “Of course, he has every reason to let me rot in Shadow Town.”

“What did you do to him?” she asked knowing it was bad.

“I kind-a abandoned him; but he got a fine ship out of it. Corso Riggs and I ran together for a number of years; I was posing as a smuggler, er, privateer for the Republic, and Corso was my first mate. He’s a really good kid; I hated deceiving him, but you do what you have to do. When the assignment ended, I returned to Imperial Intelligence rather abruptly.” Bellon stopped pacing and started running through the frequencies on his holocommunicator.

“How will you keep Vowrawn from finding out you contacted him?” Daiva asked looking at the communicator.

“They need to know what frequency to look for. Too-vee, what is the position of Vowrawn’s dreadnaught?”

“Master, the _Imperius_ is about to cross the terminator into night. I have received notification that we will be breaking orbit for Dromund Kaas in two days. Is that so?”

“Yes, Too-vee. I want you to open a channel on the frequency I am sending you, Implement Code 7Besh9-Aurek1-Xeshzero.”

“Yes, master.”

“You mother-fucking-sonuvabitch!” A young, dark-haired human appeared in the holocommunicator. “What the hell do you think you’re doing calling me?”

“Heh, Corso, good to see you too. I need a ride.” Bellon grinned at the angry man.

“Listen here, you Imperial bastard…”

“Tut, tut, that’s no way to treat an old mate. Corso, if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be one of the most successful privateers in Republic service,” Bellon countered still smiling.

“Republic, Empire, at war, remember? Why would I help you?”

“For old-times’ sake. I’m leaving Imperial service for good and all. You should appreciate that. I need a ride out of this system along a track that will lose any Imperial effort to follow me. _Barena_ , or whatever you call her these days…”

“She’s sill _Barena_ ,” Corso admitted a little sheepishly.

Daiva could see triumph in Bellon’s posture.

“ _Barena_ has the capability to do just that. You’ll even get paid.”

There was an awkward silence; Corso seemed to talk to someone off screen. There was a roar.

“Is that Bowdaar? Heh, Bowdaar, how’s it going?”

A huge hairy creature leaned over to put his face in the viewscreen. Bowdaar barked and yelped.

“That good? You guys are going to be the richest bastards in the galaxy if you keep that up.”

Bowdaar said something else incomprehensible in his language.

“Thanks for your vote of confidence, but it is up to the ship’s captain.”

“Just tell me where to meet you,” Corso pushed the Wookie aside and tried to glare at Bellon through the communicator.

Bellon sent the coordinates that would bring Corso into orbit on the opposite side of the planet from Phallas’ ship two days after the day Torque said Vowrawn told his men to take their prisoner back to Drumond Kaas.

“What the hell are you doing that far out in Wild Space?” Corso exclaimed after reviewing the coordinates.

“I’ll tell you in person, Corso. Don’t contact me until you’re in orbit. Make sure you’re opposite the planet from the destroyer. Billy out.”

“It worked like a charm,” Luxraina announced as the group returned with the Simulacrum.

Cinnabar was laughing. “Billy, they actually thought it was you in a grumpy mood. We just have to make sure the switch is made when we know those magic users won’t be seeing it again.”

“I ran into Babs; she said she has the perfect hiding place for you and this in the Thieves’ Guild; that’s in the sewers.” Torque parked the Simulacrum in a corner of the room and switched it off.

“Oh, lovely,” Bellon rolled his eyes.

They left locking the door to the room.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy gets a HUGE send-off party as Imperial soldiers and Sith escort him to Krasus' Landing and the awaiting shuttle.

The morning after building the Simulacrum, Bellon visited Harmon. “Is it possible that tomorrow, an hour after breakfast, either Thrall or Khadgar call Vowrawn into a meeting, a long meeting?” he saw a glint in the human mage’s eyes.

“Very easy, Khadgar is arriving tonight and is quite eager to meet your Lord Vowrawn. I take it you won’t be able to attend?”

“He’s not mine.” Bellon grimaced. “Other duties will call me away. I do hope the negotiations go well.” Bellon stuck out his hand and shook Harmon’s. “If they go as planned, Azeroth will gain a strong ally.”

Bellon spent the rest of the day briefing Vowrawn about the psyche of Azerothians; he worked hard at being a model Imperial soldier and carried out his responsibilities dutifully. Despite his dissembling, he could not bring himself to emulate the fear and awe he once held for the Sith. He recognized that it grated on Vowrawn and his Sith bodyguards. He noticed Phallas was also being a model sycophant. Bellon wondered if he was engineering his own escape from Vowrawn’s control. He didn’t see his friends until they met in the tavern over supper.

********

“You are to take the _Imperius_ back to Drumond Kaas and report to Keeper,” Vowrawn announced the next morning as they finished breaking their morning fast in the Legerdemain’s tavern. “My men have retrieved your uniform.” He snapped his fingers and a trooper stepped forward presenting the uniform to Bellon. “Change, you leave immediately.” He spun on his heels and left.

“As you wish,” Bellon muttered taking the uniform; he headed up to his room. He tucked the battle kit he wore into his backpack, used some water in a basin for a quick bath and dressed in the uniform.

As he entered the tavern, he saw the mage Harmon explaining the need for Vowrawn to meet with Khadgar now before the archmage had to return for an Argus strategy meeting aboard the Draenei ship. Harmon suggested it might behoove Vowrawn and Phallas to accompany Khadgar back to the ship.

Nice touch, Bellon thought and saw Vowrawn cave. He would go with Harmon and return with Khadgar to the war council. The captain of his guard assured Vowrawn that they could handle transferring the recalcitrant Imperial agent to the _Imperius_.

“This will afford you an excellent opportunity to observe the strengths of both factions of Azeroth, Darth Vowrawn. I understand the Draenei are skilled astronauts,” Bellon said. He smiled at the Sith lord. “I leave Azeroth in your most capable hands.” He bowed his head, turned on his heels, and headed out the door of the Legerdemain and onto the streets of Dalaran. “You might want to wipe the X70-Phantom’s protocol droid’s memory,” he mentioned offhandedly to the captain.

“Good idea,” the captain agreed.

Bellon glanced back to see Vowrawn and Phallas following Harmon toward the Violet Citadel. Unfortunately, the other three Sith were following the troopers and him. He looked down when Torque poked his leg.

“We’re here to see you off in style.” Torque nodded his big head toward a crowd up head, a group of humans smiling and waving.

Bellon recognized the crowd has residents of Bradensbrook: Mayor Heathrow, Rhys and Douglas Carrington, Jonathan Fieldstone and his family. His eyes popped at the sight of two statuesque elves towering above the humans at the back of the crowd, Alexstraza and her consort, Krasus. Bellon then saw the small gnome, Chromie push to the front of the crowd and wave grinning. The crowd surged forward following her.

“I invited them when I was collecting the poop,” Cinnabar admitted.

“Make way,” the inquisitor shouted as the crowd converged on them. He was ignored as the milling mass swarmed around Bellon. He cringed when the towering woman with horns strode forward glaring down at him; he involuntarily stepped back.

“We heard you were leaving and had to say good bye. If not for you, we wouldn’t have a home.” Mayor Heathrow, a normally dower man, grinned at Bellon and clapped him on the back.

Jonathan pushed himself between the Imperial captain and Bellon and threw an arm over Bellon’s shoulders. “Patricia baked you a farewell cake. Made with our own wheat, our own milk, our own eggs; we it owe it all to you.”

Bellon chuckled nervously. “I had help,” he protested.

“It was your genius, your strategy,” Alexstraza said replacing Heathrow. “Your departure will be our loss.”

“I look forward to seeing you in the past again,” Chromie chimed in as she opened a box. “Goblin fireworks.” She threw the box into the air and rockets took off exploding in a rainbow of colors.

Suddenly the humans of Bradensbrook contorted and shapeshifted. They raised their Worgen muzzles and let out howls of celebration.

Vowrawn’s captain was struggling to move the admirers aside and get his hand on Bellon. A couple of times, the larger creatures got between him and the small-framed Chiss he was to ensure returned to Drumond Kaas to face discipline for insubordination. He sighed when someone bumped him and he was again next to Bellon. His relief didn’t last long when Rys Carrington, a burly smith in human form, an even bigger and burlier figure in Worgen form, picked him up and moved him aside so he could talk to Bellon. The captain winced when the Worgen all began singing.

The crowd escorted Bellon up the street past Sunreaver’s Sanctuary and into the gates leading up the stairs to Krasus Landing.

The captain was relieved to see the shuttle waiting, it’s loading ramp down and guards standing at the toe. “Major, tell this crowd to stand down.”

Bellon looked at him, somewhat perturbed and grumbled in Cheunh.

Alexstraza faced the crowd and her voice rose commanding the revelers to be quiet. She smiled at Bellon. “We will miss you dear friend, and for some savior. I know you will find all that you seek where you are headed. Know that Azeroth will ever welcome you as a native son with open arms.” She bowed and kissed Bellon on the forehead. “Go in peace.” She glowered at the Imperial captain before she stepped away.

The captain felt a chill down his spine at the look of warning the woman had given him. “He shall be kept safer than an artifact, My Lady.” He recognized that the power emanating from her rivaled, perhaps surpassed, that of his master Darth Vowrawn. “Major,” he prompted.

Bellon glanced at his friends as he headed for the shuttle ramp. The three Sith watched until Bellon was aboard the shuttle and it lift off. The group quietly turned away.

********

Bellon stood on the threshold of the shuttle. Everything around him was still and quiet. Nothing was moving, not even the air.

“This way friend,” Chromie reached up and took his hand. She lead him away from the landing to an alcove just right of the entrance. The Simulacrum was propped against the wall with Babs Gearsprocket frozen beside it.

“Thank you, my lady,” Bellon bent over and kissed the dragon’s cheek.

“I’ll see you when you come back,” she assured then led the Simulacrum away.

Bellon felt the world break free and heard the noise of the crowd on the landing.

Babs grabbed his hand and ran dragging him deeper into the sewers of Dalaran. She stopped, glanced up and down the tunnel, then tapped the wall. When a hidden door in the wall opened, she dragged her charge through and slammed it shut.

“Welcome to the Thieves Guild, master assassin.” She gestured around.

“I’m a spy, not an assassin.”

“Six to one, half a dozen of the other, Billy. This is your new home until your doppelganger is safely on its way. Let me show you to your room.”

Bellon followed the Goblin woman to a small but neat room off what seemed to be a common area.

“Torque left this for you; said you’re supposed to do the calculations.” Babs handed him a detailed map of desert terrain dotted with towering mesas. One in particular was circled and the elevation of it’s table noted. “Said something about when you depart for freedom.”

Bellon glanced around and saw that all his gear, which he had accumulated during his three-and-a-half months on Azeroth, was there. That would include his map of the continents with latitudes and longitudes.

“It’ll give me something to do. Thanks, Babs. You’re a peach.”

She blushed and smiled. “Tell that to Torque. Oh, anything you want to eat is on a tab. Just tell Byron.” She pointed at a man in an apron moving through the common room. She closed the door and left Bellon alone.

He knew that she had retrieved the Simulacrum and hidden it until the switch was made. He felt overwhelmed by the outpouring of support from people who barely knew him. He sat on the bed and tried to remember the last time anyone had considered him more than a lethal tool to be plied against their enemies. He had made true friends here. He felt a sadness at leaving; he always seemed to end up leaving once he made friends. At the same time, he was excited about what lay ahead: his beloved Loa carrying his child, the union of his family to hers, a life of peace in the home he barely knew but loved.

He shook his head and laid out the maps.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so ends the Second Chapter of the adventures of Bellon'dfrey'theris.

“They’re here.” Babs announced walking up to the table where Bellon was eating a mid-day meal of fruit, cheese, and meat.

Bellon quickly stuffed the last of the food into his mouth and stood nodding. He emptied his room and followed Babs out of the Thieves Guild into the sewers proper.

The first to greet him was Dr. Nope, bumping against his legs. The spider was fast. Arbeth gave Bellon a hug and assured the switch had worked like a charm.

“There’s an exit this way,” Torque said and headed down the tunnel following a trickle of water. He turned left into another tunnel that angled down steeply. “Hope you got the coordinates right.”

“Where are we going?” Bellon asked.

“The Northern Barrens,” Torque explained. “It’s not heavily populated and once on the mesa, no one can reach you except by air.” He stopped and looked out into the air.

Bellon looked over Torque’s shoulder, about 1000 feet below was the sea and scattered lower islands of the Broken Isles. He noticed Torque looking a little pale before stepping back and forming the portal.

Bellon was the first to step through, Dr. Nope at his heels. The air was hot and dry. The plateau was about 200 hundred feet above the floor with near perpendicular sides. It was perfect.

The Northern Barrens stretched out east and south, vast plains dotted with mesas. Bellon could see smoke curling from some small settlements that were sparsely placed.

That night, the sky was clear and the stars bright. Bellon caught himself looking for any movement to indicate he was seeing a starship. He picked out a blinking light which he figured was Phallas’ destroyer, the _Inhibitor_ , still in orbit.

He woke in the deep hours of the night to a persistent beep from his communicator. “Corso,” he greeted.

“We’re in orbit. There’s an Imperial Terminus-class destroyer also in orbit; we are standing off waiting for your instructions,” Corso answered, all business.

“Sending you my coordinates. There’s plenty of room for _Barena_ to land. Wait until the _Inhibitor_ has the planet between you and it.”

“Should be about four hours. Corso out.”

“Was that your ride?” Cinnabar asked sitting up.

“Yup.” Bellon propped up his backpack so he could lean against it. “He should be landing about dawn.”

The sun rose over the grasslands of the Northern Barrens. Bellon’s communicator beeped. A female voice announced, “Entering atmosphere.” It was a simple statement; soon followed by, “Radio blackout in 3…2…1.”

“What was that?” Arbeth asked.

Bellon pointed up, “Keep watching.”

Everyone’s eyes followed his finger. It seemed an eternity before Bellon smiled. “There they are.”

High in the sky was a bright light, it grew until they could see it was a fire of some kind. Suddenly the fire winked out.

“They should land in about 45 minutes.” Bellon looked down as Dr. Nope leaned against him. He patted the spider’s head. “I’ll miss you too, bud.” He turned at a sniffle. “Oh, please, Cin, don’t cry.”

“I cannot help it.” She rubbed her eyes. “Billy, since my prior friends went their separate ways, you were the first to believe in me.”

Arbeth pulled Cinnabar into a hug. “Now you believe in yourself.”

Bellon faced the group. “We had some real good times.”

“Kicking ass in the name of justice,” Torque cheered, but his voice was a little hoarse. He scrunched his mouth and nose awkwardly.

“Keep up the good work, guys,” Bellon glanced back at the point where the space vessel had slowed its descent into a landing path. It would be some time before it became visible to the naked eye. “Don’t go back to Dalaran, not for a while. Find something to do elsewhere until Vowrawn leaves. When he finds out I didn’t go back to Drumond Kaas, he’s going to start looking for anyone who might know where I went.”

“If I sheeped…”

“No,” Bellon flatly refused. “That will just bring down the wrath of the Sith on you. Perhaps you can stay on this continent or go back to Northrend, or…”

Arbeth stopped his rambling. “We can take care of ourselves and Daiva can take care of Vowrawn. She won’t leave Dalaran without Phallas or he without her.”

“There is a call to help in Pandaria,” Cinnabar noted hopefully. “I should like to go to the land of my ancestors. I’ll travel from Stormwind; you travel from Orgrimar; and we’ll meet there; or we can go back to the Wyrmrest Temple to make our plans.”

“That sounds like a great plan,” Bellon assured. “As soon as relations are normalized between the Empire and her allies and Azeroth, I’ll write.”

“No you won’t,” Luxraina looked at him sadly. “That is a bad idea and you know it.” She placed her forehooves on his shoulders. “You go home and live a long and quiet life and don’t do anything that draws the attention of your former employers. Love your wife and raise your children in peace and know we will always remember you. May the light go with you.”

“I was kind-a hoping you’d come back here for your honeymoon,” Torque frowned.

“Oh, yeah, right, drag my pregnant wife around a war-torn world,” Bellon chuckled. “Maybe someday in the far future. Just don’t any of you die permanently on me.” He looked at each in turn and thought of something. He pulled out his holocommunicator and handed it to Arbeth. “Don’t use it; but if I can come back for a visit, Chromie indicated I would, I’ll contact you. Also, could you take Spot back to where we found him and let him go? He served me well and deserves to be free.”

Arbeth slipped the holocommunicator into her back pack as she nodded. “I’ll do that.”

The group fell silent and again watched the sky. Bellon pointed to a bright spot, which was the sun glinting off the spaceship. They watched as the ship drew closer getting larger and taking shape. It slowed to a near stop, the landing gears extended, and it settled gently to earth. The cargo-bay doors opened, and a ramp extended.

Bellon picked up his gear. “Well, this is good bye.” He nodded succinctly and headed for the ramp. He waved at the human male who appeared.

When Dr. Nope started to follow him, he stopped, and dropped to his knees. He looked into the beast’s multiple eyes. “You don’t want to follow me; where I’m going is very cold, colder than the Dragonblight. Besides, you need to protect Arbeth from Vowrawn.”

Dr. Nope chittered angrily and scuttled back to stand protectively in front of Arbeth.

Bellon turned away and headed up the ramp.

“Heh, Billy, if it’s a boy, name it after me,” Torque called just before Bellon disappeared into the ship.

“In you dreams, Torque, in your dreams.”

 

The End; of this adventure. Stay tuned for more.


End file.
